Evangelion Advanced
by thevampirealucard
Summary: Third Impact is in the past. Shinji Ikari, the boy who saved humanity, has been missing for a year. Now, as Gendo Ikari does his best to try to pick up the pieces of his shattered legacy, a stranger of unknown past and unknown origins comes before him to make a deal: help him save the world from a threat worse than the Angels, and repair his relationship with his son. ML/MC/GV/B
1. Prologue: Angels and Daemons

**Dateline: 1400 hours, 13.10.2017**

**Location: NERV Headquarters, GeoFront, Tokyo-3**

No poet who ever chronicled the fall of an empire truly captured the feeling a king has upon returning to the grave of his shattered throne. NERV, once the only organization in the world with the hardware capable of stopping the eldritch abominations known as the Angels, lay now in shambles, more than a year after Third Impact and the failed Instrumentality−the dream of old men, old fools, and one _especially _spectacular fool scrambling after his departed wife at the expense of both his son's mental health, as well as the love and regard of the very woman he gave everything to bring back to him−and in that moment, as I rode the familiar elevator down to the familiar office that now mocked me with the enormity of my failure, my vision for the first time in far too long not tinted orange by reflective lenses, I felt as if I had only just begun to truly realize exactly how foolish I had really been.

_So this is to be the legacy of Gendo Ikari, then? _I thought. _A mighty agency in shambles, a family lost and destroyed utterly and forever, the world in such a state of chaos that the fever-dreams of doddering old men are made into weapons by ungrateful, recalcitrant human beings so that they can be worse than before the catastrophe that was supposed to teach them the value of their own lives at the expense of my son's sanity? The saga of a man who barged into events beyond his understanding, heedless of Nietzsche's warnings, and reaped the same rewards? _It would only be proper, I suppose; my life heretofore had been nothing but a comedy of errors, a mockery of everything I hoped for and lived for, a metaphysical game of cat-and-mouse. All around were the sounds of workmen running back and forth, shouting at each other in familiar Japanese, that same language that had become ashen upon my tongue when I tried to speak it of late; for how can that language not be butchered coming from my mouth, whilst every venom-laced word I said to my son that poisoned his mind was said in that language, by that mouth? But still, I retained my post as commander of NERV, for my crimes were beyond count, and there was one I have wronged above all others, and I would see him at peace before I would seek my own; it is, after all, the duty of the penitent thief to restore that which was taken unto his victims, and there was truly no one from whom I had taken more than my brilliant son, who saw in his insanity that which I did not see−that which was hidden even to the seemingly-omniscient old men of SEELE. A year after the fact, his horrible shriek still haunts my nightmares, haunts me with every undeserving breath I take.

Still as a statue, I breathed a sigh of relief as the accursed elevator finally arrived on the floor that held the shattered throne, the nerve center of my betrayal of the only woman I ever loved…the bastion of my accursed hubris. I hated the room; every crevice, every infinitesimal corner of it was a constant reminder of the absolute imbecile I had been, and in every shadow there lurked the ghostly visage of every person whose life I had personally destroyed−Rei, Nayoko, Ritsuko, Colonel Katsuragi, Mr. Suzuhara, Agent Ryōji, Ms. Langley Sōryu…and, most importantly, through her, I destroyed Shinji and embraced everything that Yui had hated about me–and all of them stood in silent, righteous judgement of me. But still, I went there every day and endured their silent glares; for if I was truly sincere in my desire to set right that which I put wrong, then I would have to do it from the one place that gave me that power. The place from which I had done that for which I was attempting to repent, if indeed there is any repentance to be had for one whose actions had proved so loathsome that not even the woman who had been able to see past almost any fault could bear to look upon me with anything but revulsion and disgust…

There was something _wrong_; I felt it the moment I absently strolled into my old office. For there, turned half-ways away from the door, standing behind my high-backed chair from which I had wrought so much pain and sorrow, was a frighteningly familiar figure. "R…Ritsuko?" I managed.

The silhouetted figure stiffened, and after a moment, a decidedly masculine chuckle was my reply. "Oh, come now, Commander Ikari; I do not appear so feminine as to make you mistake me for the ghost of your lover-turned-accomplice, do I? Or was it more properly the other way around, hmm?" And in truth, upon further observation, I knew that I had seen incorrectly; the man cut an exceptionally tall figure–two meters, by my estimate–but was so uncommonly thin for one of that height as to appear almost effeminate, though his voice betrayed otherwise. From what I could see, he was dressed from head to toe in black, long hair of the same color cascading down to his shoulders messily; and in his idle hand he held languidly a single cigarette, an ember burning with an orange glow at its tip, the smoke distorting the light coming in from the window that backlit him. He turned to me–the sound of which being a dead giveaway that he wore boots–and in the darkness I could see his face better. He wore glasses, though half-rimmed with wire in opposition to my own, with skin so pale as to appear almost unhealthy, with a youthful but experienced countenance upon which were written a thousand thousand woes; which was strange, for, if asked, I could not in good conscience say that I thought him a day over sixteen–making him the same age as Shinji.

"Well?" he prompted in perfect, musical, slightly ethereal Japanese (this in spite of the bass tone of his voice). "Are we going to deal together, _Commander_, or is it your understanding that I should talk whilst you stand there gaping like a drowned fish? It was the girl, Maya, by the way…in case you're wondering how I got into your office."

"What could you and I have to deal about?" I managed at last. "Or are you simply a messenger, a minion sent to tell us that the old men are still alive and kicking?"

"Those old fools? No, I am fortunate in that I may honestly say I am not, nor have I ever been, one of their number, Ikari (though I gather you cannot claim such favors of Lady Fortune, can you, Commander?). As for what we might deal in, how about a game of knucklebones for that decaying albatross 'round your neck? I mean, even you must agree that it is beginning to become most putrid," replied the mysterious intruder. "You ask what I might deal in with you? Well, that most sanguine of humours that is, as legend says, thicker than water is what I offer. But I see that supremely confused expression on your face now; allow me to elaborate." He paused to take a long, hard draw of that cigarette before continuing, and once more the odor of tobacco-smoke filled the circular room that I knew so well. "Something is coming, Ikari; something that no one here is equipped to deal with. You know as well as I that excluding Japan, the world has begun to wage war on a level never before seen…made possible, of course, by your little middle-school science project, Codename: Evangelion. We also know the 'old men', as you so aptly name them, relied upon the knowledge given unto them by the Dead Sea Scrolls, which chronicled the lore of the First Impact. What you _don't_ know, however, is that they never searched for what lay _beyond_ that; for, as what little accurate philosophy humankind has produced, where there are Angels, there must also be Dæmons. _That _is what is coming, Ikari; something that not even the nigh-on mythical 'progenitor' race knew of. Something that neither Lilith nor ADAM, nor any of their progeny, was able to uncover…until Second Impact. When Adam awoke, he perceived of the Others; and through him, your wife, Yui. Though, I doubt her conscious mind was ever made aware of that fact."

"And what does any of this have to do with my blood?" I asked, finding myself believing this person against every iota of better judgement I had in my body; _But look at where that so-called 'better' judgement has gotten me. It can go take a long walk off a short cliff at this point, for all I care._

"Everything," he spat. Producing a manila envelope seemingly out of nowhere, he tossed it onto the desk in such a way that it sped right to me. "What you'll find in that folder, Ikari, is what you need to know…specifically, the reason why that hand there," said he, indicating my missing hand with an underhanded gesture of the one that held his cigarette, still burning, "didn't grow back. Short answer? It didn't_ belong _to you. Go on! Look!"

I kept my eyes trained on him taking another draw off the cigarette suspiciously as I picked up that manila envelope and opened it to peer at its contents, sitting down as I did; for that precaution, I was immeasurably grateful about three seconds later. "Wha…" I attempted, swallowing hard to allow myself to speak through a throat that had very suddenly become very dry indeed. "What is this?"

"The findings of your precious little Marduk Institute–your ploy, the little secret that got the Ryōji boy that Misato was so fond of killed. I trust that you learned how to read a psychograph, _Gendo? _If so, then I really don't need to explain what it says, do I?"

Fear clutched its icy grip tightly around my heart in the space of an instant. "What…but I've been trying to find him for a year! I've had every resource at my disposal at the task, with not a whit of success! Do you understand? He doesn't want to be found!"

"Well, well, well," he mocked with a bitterly sarcastic, mirthless amusement in his tone. "Since when has the great Gendo Ikari ever cared one _scintilla _as to what his progeny wanted?"

"Don't mock me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied quickly, taking another draw. "This is neither the time nor the place for _that_. Look, Ikari, no offense, but I did not come here to bandy words with you. I'll give it to you straight: I have the ability to reclaim Unit-01 and the technology to upgrade her, but given the stresses of Third Impact, I do not think I will be able to get her combat-ready in time. However, what I _can_ do is a) locate your son, and b) develop an upgraded series of Evangelions that will allow him and his compatriots to combat the emerging threat. So here's what I need you to do: give me the clearance, facilities and manpower I need, and I'll get you your son; perhaps I'll even be able to ensure that he survives saving the world again. I will not do this without your total and complete cooperation, Gendo Ikari; I cannot do it alone."

I took a picosecond to consider what he offered before making my decision: "What would you have me do?"

Even in the darkness, somehow I could see clearly his wide grin, though like a trick of the eye it was there and gone within the instant. "Glad to have you aboard, Ikari; but your primary task right now is to locate the Second Child."

I peered at him, cocking my head in confusion. "Why is that a task? The Second Child is in Germany; she has been for eight months…"

"Five…four…three…two…one…"

The door to my office slid open with a crash. "Sir!" cried Colonel Katsuragi, hair askew, an exceptionally worried look projecting her distress to all who could see. "I just got a communiqué from NERV Germany; A…the Second Child has gone missing."

"Right on cue," remarked the man, accentuating the point with a flourish of his cigarette. "Excellent timing as always, Colonel. Well, Gendo-kun, I'd say you have your work cut out for you." He made as if to leave, taking one last draw on that cigarette, flicking it out of the door and down to the lake of the GeoFront, walking to the threshold before turning back as if some moment of eureka had dawned upon him. "Oh, yes; and before I forget again…" He ducked his head out onto the walkway, which had once been a corridor, and called: "REI!"

"Yes, Ryū-dono?" responded a very familiar monotone. Shortly thereafter, there appeared in the threshold of my office a figure I thought that I would never see again; a sentiment that I regarded with both the utmost sadness and the utmost relief. Standing in that space, blue hair, red eyes and all, though showing the signs of growth associated with the hormonally-induced maturation that normal teenage girls underwent, was none other than the First Child herself: my daughter, Rei Ayanami.

"Commander Ikari, I bring the First Child−your daughter−back to you so that you can make amends and so that when I bring Shinji back, he has some indication, however minute, that things have changed," he said, addressing me and placing his hand, which in the light was revealed to be fine, elegant, long-fingered and tapered, but still bearing that nearly-unearthly pallor that came close to exceeding Rei's lack of epidermal pigmentation, upon her shoulder in an unmistakably fraternal gesture. "And besides, I believe that the girl would enjoy seeing her older brother again; don't you think so too, Gendo?" I could not respond, dumbstruck as I was with astonishment, and he knew it. "You have your marching orders. Pray to whatever you hold dear that I do not make the determination that you were a waste of my time, Ikari. I have given you this chance to redeem yourself; I pray you do not squander it." With that, the boy−for as he stepped into the light, I saw much more clearly the gentle lines that marked his adolescence as clearly as the harsh ones that marked experience far beyond his years, though that discontinuity caught my attention not nearly as much as his strange golden eyes did, with pupils so contracted as to seem quite strange given the absence of a bright fluorescent light–bowed with a European flourish, then turned on his black-booted heel and was gone as if he had never truly been there to begin with.

"Who _was_ that?" asked Katsuragi, bewilderment all too clear in her tone.

Neglecting to answer, I instead walked over to the desk upon which the strange boy had just discarded the manila envelope, opening it up and looking at the large stack of papers behind; as I comprehended what I was looking at, my eyes widened: here were detailed instructions, diagrams, dissertations, blue-prints…everything and more that he had promised, so much new information that I nearly had to sit down again simply to convince myself that what I had just read had been real, and not some dextroamphetamine-induced hallucination. And at the top of each stapled document, there was a single title…

Codename: Evangelion Advanced

"Colonel Katsuragi," came Rei's voice unexpectedly. "Ryū-dono said something about it being 'the Future' and 'Mankind's only hope'…"

"It's a sign," I finally managed. "A sign that the nightmare that was Third Impact might not be over just yet."

**Dateline: 1400 hours, 13.10.2016**

**Location: 0.00435 light years beyond Pluto**

Far out, beyond the explored and surveyed regions of space, a behemoth floated amongst the eddies and tides of the gravitational orbits of two dozen different solar systems. There was a time when the behemoth was comprised of living tissue, but was in truth simply a mother holding on to that one instinct that allowed her to retain some sense of _ego_–the protective instinct of a mother for her child–and far be it for her to object to when the monster she had placed within him in an act of colossal hubris broke free and superseded the will of her son, the son who, because of her, lived in perpetual fear of himself, of the beastly, alien _thing_ that dwelled within him, and forced her to commit horrific acts of savagery when her child was in peril; for in the end, the fact of the matter in her view was that it had done a far better job of protecting his life than she had. But no more; for a year and more she had drifted, sleeping, peacefully resting in the notion that with the resolution of her error, he could finally find the peace she had unwittingly wrenched from him in an attempt to get the approval of her father.

She knew now how horribly wrong she was.

Far, far out, and drifting, further, ever further, from her point of origin, she heard the proof of what the strange boy who bore the name of the Dragon had told her; she heard through the medium of distance unimaginable to most any human being the sound that would haunt her endless dreams, the sound that she would know anywhere…

The sound of her child in torment.

Out in the reaches beyond the limits of explored space, a legendary weapon, the fabled Lance of a Roman officer by the name of Longinus, detached from the titan's body, was _forced_ from the titan's body, its native power not nearly enough to lend it the fortitude to resist the unstoppable will that drove it from its place. A large, dull red orb in the center of her chest–that which some had supposed was an apple, but was both so much less and so much _more_–burned with an internal fire, ignited into a vibrant shade the likes of which had not been seen for a year, and with the heart-like pulsating of that single beat of life, a pair of large, narrow white eyes beneath a purple helmet came slowly back to their former brilliance, and the creature immediately turned her gaze to the source of that which alerted her.

And the monster let out a roar that was more of the mind than of the sound, the psychic signal reverberating throughout the vast expanse of Space.

EVA-01 was awake at last.


	2. Chapter 1: The Deal Is Struck

**Dateline: 1900 hours, 20.10.2017**

**Location: 1392 Ashikaga, Apartment 42-B, New Kyoto**

The first thing that told me I was awake was the smell.

It wasn't a familiar smell; my sensei/uncle unto whom my father had abandoned me preferred that I do the cooking…and besides, I never learned anything about Western food whatsoever. So the salty smell of frying strips of pork and unborn poultry was almost as alien as the Fourth Angel, Shamshel, hyperbolically speaking, of course. Then my vision began, blurry and nebulous, slowly but surely coming into focus. Above me, dust motes showed white as they came into contact with the bright sunlight streaming through the gaps between the plastic slats of the window-curtain, the sound of burning flesh and sizzling fat just barely noticeable. My head was a mass of mothballs, and as I groaned and brought my arm up to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I tried to remember who I was…

"Ah, Shinji! Your eyes finally open!"

"_NO! Dammit! Don't you dare die on me, Shinji Ikari!"_

_The splash of liquid against my lips…_

_LCL…_

_Fourteenth Angel…_

_Liquid burning down my throat…_

_Smelling like blood…_

_Burning like acid…_

My head reeled from the dual shock of the hazy memory and the presence of the intruder. _Yes,_ I thought. _That's who I am…_

_Shinji Ikari._

_Third Child._

_Boy._

_Baka._

_Hentai._

_Idiot._

_Coward._

_Defiler._

…_MURDERER…_

"Oh, and I found that little needle of yours," said the voice, disgust marring its beauty. "Morphine's a dangerous thing, Shinji-kun; too easy to miscalculate, and mistakes may be costly…especially when one _intentionally_ overdoses."

I summoned the strength to pull myself erect at that, staring at the man in wonder; he was a vision of masculine perfection, Ayami Kojima style…modern glasses, black pants and riding boots, black turtleneck sweater and leather gloves, long raven hair, a face possessing an inhuman elegance and symmetry, as well as Rei levels of pallor…and strange, intense golden eyes, ageless pupils contracted as if in a bright light. But there was something strange that distracted me immediately thereafter−

There were no cicadas.

I don't know why _that _got my attention, but it did. From outside, there was complete and total silence…as if New Kyoto had suddenly been transformed into a graveyard. I hated it; even immediately after…after Third Impact, there had been the sound of cicadas everywhere outside, day and night, so much so that it became a part of the background.

And now they were gone.

"Who…who are you?" I croaked, my throat cracked and dry as a desert.

A low chuckle first; then a sinister, full-bodied laugh came from him. "I am as I am," said he. "But by many names have I been called. _However,_" he emphasized with a flourish in his tone, "what I am called by those many is irrelevant. Your sister called me 'Ryū'; it shall do at present, don't you think, Shinji-kun?"

"'Sister'?" I asked, reactions of anxiety and jubilation warring within me. "Ayanami-chan has returned?"

"Aye, that she has," responded the man…Ryū-sama…with a fair degree of mirth in his tone. "Though I gather that when you see her, it would delight her greatly for you to address her as 'onee-chan' as opposed to the name the commander gave her."

"My father…" Murderous rage and cloying need rose up together from within me like bile. "That…bastard…is back?"

"I take it you went into hiding to keep Sōryu-chan from finding you, then?" remarked Ryū in a deadpan voice that was only able to be differentiated from that of Rei herself by the marked lack of the hollowness her monotone natively possessed. "A shame; for as much as I would _love _to leave you here to wallow amongst this filth, entirely alone with yourself until you found _another_ way of ending your existence, regrettably my purpose here is…much different."

"What do you mean?"  
"Well, for starters, I'm sorry to inform you that Third Impact was only the first act of this little drama," replied Ryū. "And as such, I'm going to have to ask you−_ask_ you, mind−to come along with me."

Dread formed like a poisonous stone at the pit of my stomach. "Come along with you _where_, exactly?" I asked, though I feared that I might already know the answer far too well.

"Your meal is ready, Shinji; I strongly suggest you not let it cool overmuch," he rejoined instead, porcelain hitting the table a bit more forcefully than I was comfortable with. "I will answer your query after, and _only _after, you have finished eating."

So it was _that _kind of answer.

Hating the feeling that I was going to be used again, led once again by the nose by secrets and lies just like before, I got up off of the familiar old sofa and almost mechanically walked to the small sandalwood table I had made months ago, the sight of the unfamiliar dish drawing my body to it like a moth to a flame. I sat before it and took a small bite, awkwardly aware of the almost suffocating intensity of Ryū's gaze upon me as I did; as soon as that bit hit my tongue, though, every thought of that nature fled my mind and my attention was entirely consumed with the task of ripping the food to shreds.

"How long has it been since you've eaten a full meal, Pilot Ikari?"

I stopped chewing right then, every inch of me the textbook example of the proverbial deer in headlights. I thought…and thought…and came to a conclusion that, for some reason, I was sheepish to admit to my mysterious visitor.

"Four months?" I responded, cringing to brace myself for the reaction I was sure was on the horizon.

"Hmm…" was his only comment, his eyes closing and his head nodding as he brought a pack of cigarettes out from within his sweater, removed a single cigarette and placed it in his mouth, bringing a lighter up in his other hand and igniting it. The smell of an unfamiliar brand of tobacco, bearing an edge the strangely not out of place odor of cinnamon, filled the apartment, but I barely noticed, dumbstruck as I was by his reaction. "Keep eating."

My body worked automatically, shoveling the food into my mouth as my conscious mind reeled in surprise. Somewhere, I noted dimly that I had finished it rather quickly, but it was as if my ability to think coherently had hit the blue screen.

"Good; now that you're done, I'll tell you," he said, taking away the plate and putting it into the plain kitchen sink. Not long after, he pulled up the chair opposite me and sat down in a languid pose, taking long, lethargic draws off of the white-and-orange paper roll of herbs he still held between the fingers of his gloved hand. "If you are up to it, I'd like to take you back to the GeoFront…back to Tokyo-3 and NERV."

Silence.

"No."

He turned to me, cocking his head with a surprised expression on his face, but infuriating amusement dancing in his eyes like fireflies. "What did you say?"

"_No_."

"What, not even to see your sister who…"

"_NO_."

"Not even…"

"_NO!_" I screamed, frenzied and standing up to slam my palms on the table. "You're just like _him!_ You only care about how you can use me and throw me away, just like him! Neither of you care how much it has cost me…how much it cost…how much it cost…"

"Asuka."

"_YES!_ No one cared about HER! No one offered to help! She was just left to…to wither and die away, abandoned until she bled herself into a coma! And it was all…it was all…" _my fault my fault myfault myfault myfault myfault myfault myfault myfault myfault!_

"…_Mea culpa_," he finished, taking a resigned draw from his cigarette. "So in other words, you're running away. Again."

"Wha…" His accusation shocked me out of my reverie, putting a halt on any other thought but his words, searing themselves slowly and painfully into my brain.

"You're running away," he repeated. "You're running away because you're petrified with fear at what might happen if you pilot again…petrified with fear at the Beast sleeping within you, the _true _source of EVA-01's berserker mode. And so you run from the EVAs, you run and run and run…without the slightest _inkling _that what you're running from…" He took one finger and touched it to the center of my forehead. "…is within you." He took another draw. "But of this I can assure you, Shinji-kun; absolutely everything you care for−Tōji, Kensuke, Hikari, Rei, Asuka, all of them−will be violated and annihilated. And _I _am _very_ different from your father; whenever did he expressly allow you to fight for and protect those you love and care for?"

We stared at each other for a long time, until, unable to bear the weight of his unflinching, unfaltering gaze, I dropped mine to my hands in my lap as I honestly considered. It was in that moment that I realized what he was truly trying to say.

As much as he'd like to give me a choice, I have none.

Not much of an observable difference from my father, but it'd be enough.

I exhaled a sigh. "Fine. I'll do it." _I mustn't run away…_

His face was completely blank as before, and as the seconds drew on I began to feel nervous, like I'd made entirely the wrong choice.

His lips quirked into a small smirk.

"Of course."


	3. Chapter 2: Assessments and Progression

**Dateline: 1500 hours, 15.12.2017**

**Location: NERV Headquarters, GeoFront, Tokyo-3**

"Begin Synchronization Test 01."

"This had better work," muttered Gendo beside him.

Ryū-sempai looked at my father with enough contempt that I could note it from inside the entry plug. "Come now, Gendo-kun; do try to have some faith. Have I failed in doing that which I said I would do yet? It'll work." Then he turned and looked right at me. "Shinji, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Fine, sempai," I replied, my voice level. "Better, actually, than before."

"That's very good, Shinji," he said, a lopsided grin breaking on his face; a gesture, I had learned, that he wore to convey satisfaction, not the amount of enthusiasm the expression suggested. No, when he was really amazed, it'd register in his eyes, not his face. "Your synch ratio is holding steady at 73.84% right now, but we won't go to Stage Two just yet. Not until you're used to synching again, at least."

Oh, no you don't. "But Ryū-sempai, I wish to go further." I would get back up to speed if it killed me; I _had_ been training for this and only this for two months, after all, and I'd die before the plan was slowed on my account; I had to earn my keep.

Amusement danced in his eyes for a second, before he closed them, hung his head and swung it back and forth, chuckling. "Of course, Shinji. If you wish to go further, we will." Addressing the operators, Makoto and Maya, while still keeping his gaze fixated on me, he said, "Remove Synch Barrier Alpha."

"Removing Synch Barrier Alpha," Maya responded, her fingers flying across the control panel so swiftly that the motion blurred. "Alpha removed; level capped at Beta."

"Synch ratio still stable," I heard Makoto say; I couldn't hold in my smirk at his comment. Concentrating and finding my center, blocking out all extraneous data and strengthening my contact with the EVA, I could hear gasps of astonishment coming from the testing platform. "Synch ratio has spiked to 99.89%!"

"You're going too fast," muttered Doctor Akagi from her position, slightly removed from Ryū's right side, probably because of my father. From what I could gather, things were still really awkward and tense between them; a lot of bad blood still boiled. "Too fast…

"What, Ritsuko-chan? Worried that we'll cross Shinji's ego borderline?" he asked slightly mockingly.

"Doctor Akagi, what Ryū-dono means is that the crossing of onii-kun's ego borderline does not present even half the dangers with the EVA Advanced series that were present in the original EVA models," Rei interjected softly, her hand upon her chin as she looked on, intrigued. "In fact, the ego borderline does not exist with the second generation Evangelions, for all practical purposes; in truth, it would probably be to his benefit if the EVA's personality merged with his own, for in so doing his combat efficiency would theoretically improve anywhere from a factor of 18−75%, thus increasing his statistical survivability from 33% to 72%."

"Think you can go further?" Ryū asked me.

Within myself, I conferred with the soul inside the EVA−my mother, Yui−and reached an estimate with the help of her analysis of the test data and her know-how…which, given that she all but invented the first generation EVA series, shouldn't come as a surprise. "Yep; I've got about three more blocks in me."

Ryū nodded. "Remove Synch Barriers Beta and Gamma."

"Affirmative," came Maya's reply.

"Synch ratio increasing…110%...145%...holding steady at 189%," said Makoto.

"Good," the black-haired foreigner replied. "Log the results and proceed onto stress testing…I want to see how well he can sustain that ratio when actually utilizing it." He turned his gaze to Doctor Akagi. "The stress test, Ritsuko-chan, is so that extra data can be collected and studied so as to improve the flexibility and elasticity of the synchronization program Doctor Ikari developed back in 2004, when spearheading GEHIRN. It is also to work out any latent feelings of alienation on the part of the pilot that might interfere with the synch ratio, or worse, cause an unpredictable reaction in either party at a high-level synchronization…"

"…and to further imprint the pilot's personality onto the EVA," Ritsuko realized. "If we'd had more time, we might have come up with something similar, but SEELE always said that it was unnecessary."

Ryū scoffed. "Old fools, the lot of them. I almost wish I'd been here then, if only to euthanize them, since I'm sure they'd be averse to taking their dementia medications." He turned back to me and my data, and quickly I saw him thinking before he resumed his taciturn, blank demeanor; not even Rei had been that good in maintaining such an effective poker face. "Begin Stress Test 01."

"Releasing restraint clamps," said Makoto. With a hiss and a snap like a bear trap, the bindings came undone, and suddenly the limbs that felt so like my own came entirely undone. Mentally, I made the EVA step forward, and then again, putting one foot before the other and walking to the end of the antiseptic-white chamber, turning the head to regard the NERV staff monitoring me, in an alcove behind a sheet of one-inch-thick 'transparent aluminum', as Kensuke called it; apparently a reference to an old American science fiction movie. Then I looked down through the Evangelion's eyes, gazing at the changes the new body featured. Sharp, slightly curved, talon-like claws, black armor that was lighter and stronger than any of the equipment we'd had two years ago, clawed feet that were still essentially humanoid in structure, and a heck of a lot of other modifications that made the giant biomechanical monstrosity (used as a term of somewhat-endearment) look much more intimidating.

"How does the S2 core like the new body?" Ryū asked, curious.

"She likes it," I said after a moment's conference. "Seems like nothing was lost in the transference from the old one."

"Lovely," he remarked laconically. "Now, I'll need you to stand against the rack at the other side of the room, and once the restraints are re-engaged we'll bring you out."

"_Hai_," I responded, bobbing my head once and aligning myself with the aforementioned rack that had just emerged on the far wall of the room that was once the room in which Rei tested with EVA-00, two years ago. Feeling the restraints clamp down on the EVA's limbs, I simply sat there and gradually came back out of the synch, releasing contact to a safe level before the machinery removed my entry plug, the strange new liquid used in place of LCL flooding out of the pod swiftly, making me gasp and cough as air filled my lungs and the liquid expunged from it. Just as swiftly, I struggled and grasped for a semblance of dignity, and very quickly, I was able to recover enough to function, wiping the remainder of the liquid I was forced to retch out from my mouth with my fist. Popping open the hatch, I stepped out and forced my eyes to accommodate to the light, lurching forth and grabbing the railing opposite the hatch to try and regain my balance. It took a moment before the reality of the situation set in, and when it did, I could hardly believe it. _I did it! I really did it! I proved Evangelion Advanced _works_!_

Finally recovered, I stood up straight and walked to the lockers to strip off my plugsuit, so that I could get ready for what came next in Ryū's training regimen. And for once, everything went off without a hitch, without a single complication at all. I wouldn't have minded continuing on this route for a long time.

It was too bad the cosmos had different ideas, huh?

**Dateline: 1645 hours, 15.12.2017**

**Location: Training Room, NERV HQ**

The sparring match was still going.

Forty-five minutes prior, the entire senior staff of NERV–Commander Ikari, Doctor Akagi, 2nd Lieutenant Ibuki and Colonel Katsuragi–had been invited to view the physical training Ryū was putting Shinji through. It had started with _bōkken_, then quickly degenerating into hand-to-hand combat, surprising the entire staff with how well the young pilot was holding his own under the furious hurricane that was Ryū, even though he was still incredibly hard-pressed to keep his footing, much less go on the offensive. Still, his progress as a martial artist was clear, and nothing short of astonishing to those who remembered that it had only been two months since he had been found. Mixed into the melee, Misato herself could pick out elements from various forms: "Judo…tai-chi…karate…taekwondo…jujutsu…aikido…kungfu…" she muttered as the motions ran through those schools of technique. Then she gasped as Shinji back-flipped and grabbed a _hanbō_ from the rack at the side of the room, switching his stance as soon as he landed in preparation as the mysterious foreigner pressed his attack, his posture shifting slightly backwards in a more defensive position.

The teenager launched forth in a counter-attack, meeting his teacher in a flurry of blows, his weapon a spinning wheel of stabs and slashes–"Sōjutsu," muttered Misato–each of which Ryū deflected empty-handed, as if it were no more bothersome than a fly. _Still, _the tactical officer thought, _he's losing ground, and there's no way he's not realized it by this point_.

Almost on cue, as if he could read her thoughts, Ryū sprung his elaborate trap, twisting like an eel around what Shinji clearly thought was going to be the final blow, chopping his wrist _just so_, grabbing the pole-arm with his free hand and slipping down in a fluid motion to simultaneously sweep the pilot's legs out from under him and use the wooden weapon to make his knees buckle, forcing him on his back to the practice mat on the floor as the momentum brought the pale man around and back up onto his feet, that same motion ending with a snap of the end of the practice weapon to just before the pilot's neck.

Applause heralded the end of the little exhibition, Ryū snapping the _hanbō_ behind his back and using his other hand to help Shinji up off of the floor. Quickly, the staff filed out of the observation balcony with its polarized windows and down through the elevator back to the floor, where Ryū had already set about putting on his black button-down, boots and white lab coat that he had eschewed to the corner of the room upon the beginning of the training bout.

"Shinji, that little backflip was totally unnecessary," Ryū was saying. "All it did was put you off your balance _just enough_ for me to be able to execute that little finishing move, for when you land and assume your stance, feeling stable even though you're not, you make no effort to correct it, allowing a combatant to exploit that flaw in your form."

"My apologies, Ryū-sensei. I shall work to correct that…error," replied the teenager, eyes downcast in a way that was extremely reminiscent of how he was immediately prior to Third Impact, in the nadir of his despair.

"_Ach_, I am simply offering instructions; your mistake was no fault of yours. You are young: the knowledge it takes to fully adhere to minimalism of movement in a fight requires experience, and experience comes with time. You did very well this day, Shinji; do not think that by my critiques I mean to say otherwise."

Shinji brightened at that, an eager grin upon his face, the light once more in his eyes. "Understood, Ryū-sensei. _Arigatō_." With that, he jogged forth out of the room and into the lockers, taking at once a towel to wipe the sweat from his face and shower.

Back in the Training Room, questions flew about the room almost immediately. "What purpose does weapons-training serve? If these things are anything like the Angels…"

"…their Absolute Terror Fields would render it unusable?" the man finished. "Perhaps; the same principle, however, applies to your pallet rifles and progressive knives, Doctor Akagi. Shinji…_Pilot Ikari_ will have to be able to adapt to rapidly changing situations if he is to have any success in the field, regardless of how well we can upgrade the EVA. Thus, extensive training in hand-to-hand combat will improve his effectiveness in battle, and weapons training allows him to both be accustomed to a variety of weapons, and to think tactically about each and every new threat, letting him evaluate them more effectively than he otherwise could."

"Even if he realizes what he's up against, if these 'Dæmons' are really as bad as you say, he'll have an extra second to react_ at most_," Ritsuko protested.

"Why, my dear Doctor Akagi," he replied teasingly, smiling at her in a fiendish manner. "Haven't the Angel Wars taught you anything? The banks of the River Styx are only a hair's-breadth wide, and that one second will undoubtedly make the difference between victory and defeat–life and death."

**Dateline: 1745 hours, 15.12.2017**

**Location: In Transit, Tokyo-3**

I sat back onto the cushioned, black-leather seat by the window, watching the semi-ruined city go by in a blur. Exhaustion rested comfortably in my limbs, and so, too physically tired to sleep, I let my mind wander as I stared out of the tinted portal on the limousine door.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Ryū, sitting across the passenger cabin from me, hidden in the shadows.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just tired; that's all."

"Rest. You deserve it," he said immediately. "You did very well today, Shinji. Your progress has been quite something, and you stand upon the precipice of preparation. At this rate, another month and you'll be ready for anything." He took from the pocket of his long black coat a pack of cigarettes, selecting one and holding it in between his lips as he brought out of another pocket a nondescript black lighter, setting the end on fire.

"You really think so?" I asked, my spirits slightly buoyed by his evaluation.

"Without a doubt," he replied, physically waving off my question with a hand gesture. "I have a great deal of faith in your abilities, Shinji Ikari. I know you can do this thing we so unjustly ask of you once again."

I grunted in acceptance, staring out the window a bit longer, before a single question nagged at my brain until I was quite thoroughly annoyed. "Sensei," I began tentatively. "Who is Asuka Langley Sōryu?"

He froze at that, eyes uncharacteristically wide in shock for a second before his carefully-schooled expression of neutrality slid back onto his face. "How do you know that name?"

I shrugged. "In the changing room, there were three lockers for the pilots: one with Rei-chan's name, one with mine, and one that had 'Sōryu, Asuka Langley' engraved on its nameplate. Who is she?"

"Asuka Langley Sōryu was someone who used to work at NERV, a test pilot who took ill. She's coming back, though; you'll see her soon enough." With that, he fell silent, and I knew he considered the conversation concluded. I would, too, except that something about what he said nagged at me incessantly…like a name that just slipped your mind. Dismissing it, I tried to focus on watching the pedestrians on the sidewalk. "If you're wondering where we're going," he spoke up again, "I'm taking you back to my apartment in this city. Your friend Misato has some…personal issues to take care of, and whilst I'm sure she'd accept you back with open arms, my aim is to minimize any stress that might limit your abilities. Don't worry, though; it's a penthouse, so I daresay there'll be plenty of room for the both of us."

I nodded with a great deal of effort, my eyelids drooping…so heavy…so tired…

**Dateline: 2355 hours, 15.12.2017**

**Location: Apartment 18-B, 4A Tokugawa**

"Shinji! Wake up!" a voice in the dark hissed.

Groggy, I wiped sleep from my eyes as they adjusted. "Ryū-sensei?"

"Quickly, get out of bed! Central Dogma just got an alert; the first Dæmon is _here!_"


	4. Chapter 3: Thanks for the Memories

**Dateline: 0030 hours, 16.12.2017**

**Location: Central Dogma, GeoFront, NERV HQ**

"Get me a bloody status report immediately!" Ryū roared, walking into the command center of Central Dogma swiftly and obviously very irritated. Startled, I turned quickly and brought the manila folder that held the MAGI's trace-logs to his attention.

"At 2330 hours, the UN International Satellite Relay picked up readings of an object falling from orbit at a speed exceeding terminal velocity. Analysis of the raw data correlated with certain Angelic indicators, though the pattern is something heretofore unobserved," I recited, calming myself and handing the folder to him. "The MAGI termed it a 'black pattern' and calculated a 99.47% chance that this was the first of the Dæmons you told us of, and so made the recommendation to notify you and the Third Child as soon as possible."

He looked through the various pages and pages of data in only a few minutes, nodding to himself, snapping the file closed and handing it back to me. "Good work, Colonel Katsuragi. The MAGI were not incorrect; this is the first. And from the readings, it seems as though…" He stopped, turning away and walking closer to the screen, watching distractedly the image of the creature as it plummeted towards the planet. "Magnify 480x," he commanded; as Makoto magnified the image accordingly, a disturbingly feral grin crept across his face. "Belphegor."

"What?" I asked, confused.

He turned to me, his expression changed so quickly I wondered for a moment if I had imagined it. "The first Dæmon to be sent against us is the one called Belphegor, the Eighteenth." He turned back away again, watching the screen as he spoke. "They're coming in reverse order, last to first. And the Eighteenth Dæmon just so happens to be Belphegor." He chuckled softly and mirthlessly, his head bowed and shaking back and forth, eyes closed, and almost to himself he muttered, "What do you know? They do indeed have a sense of humor. _Fuck._" He turned to me again, and said: "Colonel Katsuragi, prepare the entry plug of EVA-01-A for insertion, and ready the Unit herself for launch. When that bastard hits Ground Zero, I want Shinji out there waiting for him. Oh, and send word to the Armory that their time is up, and unless Unit One has a progressive knife up to specifications ready for combat, they can kiss their hides goodbye."

"Yes, sir," I responded, bowing formally if somewhat stiffly. Turning to the gawking faces of Makoto and Shigeru, I shouted: "You heard the man! Execute!"

Several moments later, as NERV became a hub of activity, Ryū stood there, leaning against the sterile white metal wall, smoking a cigarette languidly. "Have the civilians been evacuated yet?" he asked mildly.

"_Hai_," I answered. "As soon as the report came through–and the trajectory was plotted for Tokyo-3–we sent out a notice for all non-military personnel to make their way to the pre-assigned evacuation bunkers."

"Good," he replied. "Engage the building elevators. We want the most important buildings below ground; the others are to provide Shinji and his EVA with ample cover through this operation. Where is Commander Ikari?"

"Right here," the Commander's tired voice spoke. Stepping out of the elevator, Gendo Ikari straightened his glasses and ran one of his gloved hands through his mess of brown hair. His face was clean-shaven, and even with the clear glasses of his on, the resemblance to his son was uncanny. "I understand the first threat caught us a bit off-guard?"

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Ryū agreed. "The Eighteenth Dæmon is descending from orbit, and according to the MAGI's calculations, it'll reach Ground Zero in 15.58 minutes. Don't worry, though; I am confident in your son's abilities. Everything is under control…for the moment, at least." He pushed off from his leaning position and strode forth, leaning forward and placing both hands on the top of the terminal, cigarette still burning in his hand. "Now it's up to your son's remarkable ability to defeat That Which Must Not Be." He took a long, hard draw from the stick of rolled-up tobacco. "_This _should be interesting."

**Dateline: 0040 hours, 16.12.2017**

**Location: Changing Room, Central Dogma**

"What is it that troubles you so much, onee-chan?" Shinji asked, seeming absent but fully attentive. "It can't be that much more difficult than fighting the Angels was."

"That is what I am worried about, Shinji-kun. The Angel Wars…were not exactly a pleasant experience for either of us, I think," I replied. "I am not attempting to dissuade you from fighting so that I might take your place, you understand; only to remind you to be cautious when you fight it. And above all else, I would ask you to do your best to survive this encounter; there will be more, and I do not wish to face them alone."

The click and subsequent suction of a plugsuit conforming to the body of a pilot preceded his response, but to say that I was unsurprised when my brother walked forth and embraced me would have been to relay a falsehood, a fabrication…a lie. "I promise you, onee-chan, that I won't let this one kill me." He laughed shortly. "After all, that'd be kind of pathetic to get killed on my first day, now wouldn't it?"

A powerful negative emotion that I identified to be anger flared within me, and I grabbed his chin, bringing his face down to meet my eyes. "Do not _ever_ joke about that, onii-kun. You are _not_ pathetic; you never were, nor will you ever be. Just…just come back in one piece, for A…for my sake, if for no other reason." A new flash of anger, this one directed at myself, accompanied my near-slip; Ryū-dono had been quite clear as to why I was not allowed to mention the red-headed _yōkai _to my brother, and yet still I almost disobeyed that order. "And remember what I told you, if you find yourself in a distressing position."

"I will, Rei; trust me." Saying that, he walked out of the room, headed, undoubtedly, for the catapults, and I was left alone in that room with only my fears and my ire at Asuka Langley Sōryu to serve as companions. She had hated me and called me a doll more times than I cared to count, and from that I took no offense; her childhood trauma was at the root of that, I knew, and to her, I, whose only purpose before returning to the sweet oblivion that awaited me was to obey the man who was my father in his plans, seemed little more animated than the doll Kyoko Zeppelin Sōryu had been convinced was her true daughter, after all. But what I would not–_could not_ allow nor abide–was her actions which added to the pain my sibling carried with him, regardless of his own feelings toward her, nor her true feelings toward Shinji. _When I see her, _I pledged to myself for what seemed like the eightieth time in the last 48.27 hours. _When she returns, she will _pay _for the harm she has done_.

As usual, the pledge did not soothe the knotted bundle of nerves in the pit of my stomach.

**5 minutes later…**

"You feeling alright, Shinji?"

"Hai_, Ryū-sensei,_" my son replied over the communicator. "_Let's kill this thing!_"

The foreigner smirked in semi-amusement. "If you say so, Shinji. Ready?"

"_Yes, sir._"

"Commander, by your leave?" he asked, turning to me, a businesslike gleam in his eye underneath his mocking smile. I nodded my head slowly; his smile turning to a genuine grin, he turned to Colonel Katsuragi and offered: "Misato, if you would do the honors?"

Clearly troubled and irritated, tired rings around her eyes, she stared at him for a second before turning back and crying, "EVA LAUNCH!"

The restrained form of Unit One ascended rapidly through the trenches under Tokyo-3, Shinji remaining oddly quiet throughout the ascension. Just as the three-dimensional model of Tokyo-3 showed the EVA just rising onto ground level, however, the klaxons sounded loud and clear throughout all of the GeoFront. "Brace for impact!" yelled Ryū, and as the plummeting Dæmon hit the ground, he tackled me out of the way of a falling piece of the ceiling. I say this casually, not really because it was anything less than a startlingly terrifying event, but because as he got off of me and helped me up onto my feet, what was onscreen effectively silenced that disrupted feeling that by rights I should have felt. The image of the Dæmon could only truly be described with two words, and those two words I said right then:

"Oh, fuck…"

_Meanwhile_

Over my year in hiding, I got around to reading many things, many different authors. One such author was an American named H.P. Lovecraft, and while I hated the man's politics, I could not deny that he was quite talented in describing his madness-inducing creations.

When I stood there before that Dæmon as it crawled its way out of the crater it had formed upon landing, I would have sworn that someone had somehow teleported me into that man's twisted imagination.

"_Shinji, MOVE!_"

My mind working on autopilot, I threw myself into a barrel roll to avoid the spear-like tentacle that came flying towards me. Ducking and leaning against a nearby building for cover, I mentally slapped myself for getting so distracted. I peered over the building, still almost unable to believe what I was seeing.

Whilst the Angels were monstrous, for the most part they were also in a way elegant in their aberrance. This thing, though…it was as tall as Sachiel, as tall as an EVA, but in some ways more humanoid in form: it had a neck, for example, and a clearly-defined head, together with five fingers on each hand. But that was where the aesthetic improvements stopped. Its head looked like something Kensuke had tried to get me into, when he was on his Ridley Scott kick, that of an alien he said was called a "xenomorph". Its fingers were more like claws–long, skinny, sharp, and plated in chitin–its arms long and lean, plated in that same armor with bony spikes extending from the elbow, long lean legs connecting to humanoid hips with feet made from digits that looked more like talons than toes, a long exo-skeletal tail and a mouth filled with rows and rows of gigantic, razor-sharp teeth, long horns coming out of the side of its head and then curving back to follow the progression of the distended skull to its top, pointing skywards, and a torso that looked more like segmented plate armor than a genuine example of musculature. Every surface that was not a joint was covered in that chitin, the head having no visible eyes for it to see, and from its back sprouted a large number of tentacles coated with what seemed to be a type of mucus…until I looked back at the catapult and watched as that fluid began to swiftly eat through the metal. _It's got acid on its tentacles,_ I thought. _Brilliant._

"_Shinji, delivering Mark II positron rifle to your position now,_" came Ryū's voice. "_Your orders stand: search and destroy the target._"

"_Hai_," I responded. "I see the rack; moving to retrieve." I ran a few meters back, taking the lone rifle that was held on the weapons rack that had just appeared, then took cover again, switching on the armament's primary power generator. Hearing it warming up, I quickly set it upon my cover and fired a focused beam of positron energy at the creature, only to have its A-T Field save it from annihilation. Cursing, I ducked down and chambered another round–or fuse, I suppose–but when I popped up again to take another shot, it had vanished. "Control, are you seeing this?" I asked. "It…it's gone…"

Too late, I heard the reply: "_Shinji, behind you!_"

A sharp, stabbing pain on the small of my back I felt through the EVA; my vision blurring, I glimpsed the long tail of the Dæmon, the tip red with blood.

"_SHINJI!_"

_Central Dogma_

"Synchograph reversing! Data feedback commencing! Mental contamination imminent!" 1st Lieutenant Ibuki cried.

"Shut it down; shut it all down! Disconnect A-10 circuits!"

"Belay that order," interrupted Ryū, taking a draw on one of his accursed cigarettes, now having eschewed his long black coat for the white laboratory coat he had worn earlier. "Continue connection, but do not interfere."

Rage coursing through me, I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall. "That's my _son _in there, Ryū! We end the experiment _now!_"

Instead of the witty retort I had come to expect from him, the man's eyes lit up with anger and irritation, and with Herculean strength he grasped my hands–both the genuine and prosthetic ones–and pried them off of his collar. "I made a promise, _Gendo_," he hissed. "And I intend to keep it. We continue."

Behind us, silencing our quarrel, a sound started low; then it climbed and climbed, in pitch and volume, until it reached what I had thought was its zenith: my son was screaming, screaming in torment. But then, to my horror, it continued to climb, until at its height it morphed from my son's cries into a spine-chillingly familiar sound…

…the same sound I had heard in Antarctica, seventeen years before.

_EVA-01-A_

I was sitting on a folding chair, a spotlight on me, the rest of the room in impenetrable darkness. Clad in my plugsuit, my A-10 connectors still on my head, I felt a rush of fear for the first time in a long time, feeling more disoriented than I did the time I was absorbed by Leliel; around me, sounds of indistinct origin rang out across the unknowable expanse.

[I mustn't run away! I mustn't run away!]

[What are you, _stupid?!_]

[Look at me, dammit! Look at me!]

[An unfamiliar ceiling…]

[Come die with me…]

[Activate the dummy plug!]

[…I feel sick…]

_**Who are you?**_

The last question hit me like a ton of bricks. It was jarring to hear such a direct question amidst the many wandering snippets of speech, a hammer amidst the half-remembered things said that roamed about like mist, darting in and out, growing louder and then fading away at random, and it took me a moment to process.

"What?" I asked at last.

_**Who. Are. You?**_

"W…Where am I?"

_**You are.**_

__"What the Hell does that mean?!"

_**You are. You are where you are…and you are not where you are not.**_

__"Why…what are you?!"

_**Here. **_In front of me, some distance away, another spotlight faded into being, showing a pale-haired teenager in a button-down and jeans sitting on a bar-stool, leaning forth with his hands clasped in front of him, unnatural electric-blue eyes staring straight into mine from beneath fine black brows; well-built like a lacrosse player, a small, cruel smirk played at the right side of his thin mouth with its jarringly dry and cracked lips. _**I am Belphegor; who are you?**_

"Sh…Shinji Ikari…" I stammered out.

Belphegor stared at me for a bit, cocking his head with slight amusement before saying at last, _**No, I think not.**_ He spoke without actually speaking, as if the form he showed was simply a marionette, and he pulled the strings from high above.

"What do you mean? You asked for who I am, and I told you! I'm Shinji Ikari!"

_**NO**_, the voice objected firmly. _**YOU are NOT Shinji Ikari, Lilim. THIS…what you are, what you have become…THIS is NOT Shinji Ikari.**_ The smirk on the puppet's face broke out into a full, malevolent, toothy, savage, bloodthirsty grin, making me tremble in terror. _**THIS is SHINJI IKARI!**_

All at once my mind was assaulted; images, memories, feelings, emotions, friends, enemies…it came flooding back so rapidly that, surprised, I had no chance to stand my ground, and was instead blown backwards by the force of the wave.

_"Why did you call me, Father?!"_

_ "Because I have a use for you."_

_ "Because of you, my little sister's in the hospital!"_

_ "AYANAMI!"_

_ "Hentai!"_

_ "Dumpkoff!"_

_ "What are you, _stupid_?!"_

_ "You're useless!"_

_ "Why are you there, damn you! You won't help me! You won't even hold me! You're no one! NO ONE! Why won't you look at me?!"_

_ "I'm so fucked up…"_

_ "What do you know?! You're not me!"_

_ "So _what_ if I'm not you?! That doesn't mean you can just give up!"_

_ "Shinji…"_

_ "I'll kill you…I'll kill you…I'll kill you…"_

_ "I feel sick…"_

_ "How disgusting."_

Without realizing it, I screamed…I screamed until my throat was dry, and all that came out were croaks, and I screamed some more. I _remembered_; I remembered _everything_.

_**Now, **_the voice said, _**you truly ARE Shinji Ikari.**_

_Murderer…_

_ Coward…_

_ Pervert…_

_ Wallflower…_

_ Useless…_

_ Meaningless…_

_ Disease…_

_ Does nothing but hurt…_

_ Nobody loves you…_

_ Always alone…_

_ Always alone…_

_ Always alone…_

_ Please, just kill me…_

_ Please, just let me die…_

_ I'd…I'd rather die…_

_ Than hurt her…again…_

{Oh, shut up, will you?}

I stopped, startled. _Who are you?_

{_Baka_. Don't listen to him; he's the enemy}

_Are YOU an enemy?_

{…Yes, I was…I'm not proud of it, but I was…}

_Why are you helping me? I'm a parasite; my life means nothing. I'm an abomination…a useless person…I do nothing but hurt those I love most…being in my presence is like a poison… Please, just…just let me die!_

{No can do}

_PLEASE!_

{NO! I WON'T LET YOU DIE, SHINJI IKARI!}

_…_

{*sigh* Here. Help me out. I can't do this without you}

_No…just let me die…_

{AND HOW WOULD ASUKA FEEL IF YOU DIED?! YOU SELFISH, SELFISH BASTARD! THERE ARE TOO MANY PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT YOU FOR YOU TO JUST DECIDE THAT YOUR LIFE ISN'T WORTH LIVING! I…I'm sorry for what I did…I'm sorry that I did nothing but poison you…I'm sorry, Shinji…I'm so sorry…but I WILL make amends…and I WILL NOT let you die}

_Asuka…_

An image of her in all her indescribable beauty surfaced, her fiery hair flowing in the wind, a small, genuine smile on her face…she was truly happy…

"Shinji," said the image.

_Asuka?_

"Come back, please…come back to me…"

The mental image changed: Asuka, dressed in her plugsuit, tears running silently down her face as she stared up at what I knew to be Unit One, as I watched from its perspective. "Please…" she whispered weakly, defeated. "Please…just give him back to me…"

_Asuka…_

_ Asuka…_

_ ASUKA!_

A high-pitched, bestial shriek sounded in the background, but I barely heard it; I was filled to the brim with determination and rage that _anything _would hurt her, that _anything _would _force ME _to harm her in any way, every thought bent on ripping this _fiend _into bloody, quivering _shreds…_

{Let's do this, Shinji}

_Together. For Asuka._

Finally I raised my head, a bloodthirsty, violent, borderline-psychotic grin on my face, and together with the strange, helping Voice, I _roared, _breaking free of the bonds the Dæmonic poison placed upon me and _ascending…_

_Central Dogma_

"Psychograph is off the charts! Synch ratio rising! 189%! 190%! _195%!_ _200%!_"

"Oh, shit…" Ryū muttered almost silently.

"What?" I asked.

"I think…" he swallowed. "I think that it's safe to say that…the Sleeper has awakened."

The roar was answered, a deeper, furious tone rising in tandem with the familiar one, twin voices emanating from Unit One.

"_SYNCH RATIO AT 700%!_"

"Binders Eight through Ten breaking apart!"

"_IT'S GONE BERSERKER!_"

On the screen, I watched, dumbfounded, as EVA-01-A's pauldrons simply _shattered_, membranous, leathery, bat-like wings snapping from their bonds, extending to their full massive size as a long tail broke out of the back of the waist of the second-generation Evangelion, its jaw breaking through the helmet to reveal rows of long, sharp teeth, unlike its opponent clearly manifesting upper and lower fangs. Its back bending backwards, its head roaring and shrieking to the sky, the hexagonal lattice of orange light that was its A-T Field showed clearly, and as it brought its extended arms _down_, the field _expanded_, ripping up all of the pavement and plant-life in its path.

The EVA, falling silent, bowed its head only to immediately snap it up, luminous white eyes narrowing and turning a glowing red, before bounding across the city at the Dæmon, then flying with a powerful down-stroke of its wings, popping the progressive knife's sheath on its outer thigh open and drawing the weapon, then descending upon the creature and plunging the progressive knife through the A-T Field that had withstood a shot from a Mark II positron rifle like it was little more than tissue paper. The weight of the no-longer-flying EVA dragged the blade down, ripping a sizeable rend in the Dæmon's A-T Field, and once done with that, the cruelly-clawed hands that were a mark of the second generation plunged into the gap, grabbing the force-field and pulling it apart with strength fueled by pure rage. Trying to fight back, Belphegor sent all of his tentacles at the EVA, but the Unit caught each and every one of them in its two hands; the Evangelion howled in pain, but this only seemed to drive it further and further into its battle-frenzy, and with a single vicious motion, the armored behemoth ripped them _all _out of the monster's back, tossing them aside callously. This time it was the Dæmon's turn to howl in no doubt indescribable agony, causing a shiver to go down my spine, followed by a wave of existential terror, but Unit One was not done yet; not by a long shot.

_Tokyo-3_

Senseless rage drove my every blow, and just as I rejoiced in triumph at the Dæmon's first cry of pain, and the pure, unadulterated, vengeful _pleasure_ of its black acid-blood shooting from its back with immense pressure, suddenly I felt the brush of the Voice in the back of my head, almost like a co-pilot.

{Remember, the Dæmon has two vulnerable parts that we must destroy in sequence: the Super Solenoid Organ that binds it to this large form, and the Seal that binds it to any sort of physical form _at all_. Destroy the S2 Core, and we revert it to its true form, and only then can we destroy its Seal, sending it back to the Abyss from whence it came}

_Got it_, I sent back. And then I laughed.

And then I _laughed. _Unashamedly, unabashedly, I laughed like a madman, not caring for the sake of the boundless anger that ran through my veins. How _dare _this _thing_, this _abomination _come down _here _and threaten _her life…HERS_, the most precious life in all of humanity, and this _bastard _wanted to snuff it out?! _NO, _I thought. _I _will not _allow it._

My enemy reeled, and I grinned wider, seeing an opportunity; I lunged, grabbing the bottom of his chitin plating upon his chest, and then, with an effort of willpower, I ripped it from the soft flesh beneath. The beast howled even louder, but I took no time to relish it; there, open to my sight, was the glowing red target I was seeking–the S2 Organ. Focused, I dove forth and grasped the scarlet sphere in between my claws, and then _pulled. _With a shredding of flesh, the Super Solenoid Engine finally gave, and with a higher shriek than ever before, it began to progressively turn into dust and then get blown away in the wind. Left behind on the ground was the figure of a child in the fetal position–maybe nine or ten years old–with what looked like the head of a ram and a long, spaded tail.

{This is the second stage of our fight, and undoubtedly the more difficult. The Dæmon has regressed into its larval stage, and we have precisely fifteen seconds to find a way to destroy it and interrupt its Seal before it rises again, more powerful than ever, and practically unkillable. Problem? It's now protected by an A-T Field many times more powerful than the one of his titanic form}

_Well then, _I thought in return. _Time is short…_

{14.5 seconds left}

And suddenly, I got an idea…a perfect idea, in my opinion. Picking up my foot, I drove it down upon the larval fiend's A-T Field, and _pushed._

{Twelve seconds…}

I pressed harder.

{Seven seconds…}

Gritting my teeth, I exerted the full weight of the EVA on the fetal Belphegor.

{Five…}

{Four…}

{Three…}

{Two…}

{One…}

With a mighty crash, finally the A-T Field collapsed and was nullified, the combined strain of resisting my attempts to modify the EVA's A-T Field to neutralize the enemy's and the weight of the EVA being exerted upon it finally destroying it, and my foot went through to crush the fetus to the ground. Sadistic satisfaction filling me, I twisted my heel back and forth…back and forth…and when I finally stepped away from it, all that was left was a smear of acid…

…and a sigil, burning like red fire, just _barely _smudged, amidst it all.

With a rush of wind circling 'round like a miniature vortex, thus igniting and sending up a pillar of light that, like Sachiel, formed a cross, but unlike Sachiel, formed one that was upside-down, the sigil's interruption broke the bond between soul and physical form, and as I looked into it, I gave Belphegor a parting thought.

_Who am I, Belphegor? I am I; I am what I am, and I am not what I am not. That which makes up the entirety of my being is me, but _I _am more. I am as I am…and I am not as I am not…_ That_ is who I am, Dæmon; can you say the same?_ With that thought, I turned around and walked slowly away from the conflagration, a satisfied grin upon my face.

{Congratulations, Shinji: you did it}

_No, _I responded. We _did it._

**Dateline: 0155 hours, 16.12.2017**

**Location: Commander's Office, Central Dogma**

"First off, Pilot Ikari…Shinji…I wish to congratulate you on the first successful engagement with the creatures known as the Dæmons," said Ryū, sitting in the Bastard's chair, the Bastard himself standing off to the side like Vice-Commander Fuyutsuki used to do before Third Impact. "It is no easy feat to engage an enemy about which we know _nothing_…and to actually _succeed_ in the endeavor."

"Th…thank you, sir," I managed, entirely astonished.

{A commander who actually gives genuine praise after a mission well done? Well, _that's_ a new one, isn't it?}

"But for a period of 2.75 seconds, Unit One was paralyzed, and we picked up some fairly distressing readings. We now know that the Eighteenth Dæmon, Codename: Belphegor, injected the EVA with a virulent neurotoxin, the composition of which we have never before seen the like of. The long and short of it is, Shinji, we know Belphegor tried to attack you mentally. For the sake of our continued success against this new threat, I need you to tell us: what did you see?"

{…I think we can tell him…}

"I…It gave me my memories back… It tried to use them against me…" I whispered. Gathering my courage and lifting my eyes to regard him, I asked him the one question I needed to be answered…the cardinal question.

"Ryū-sensei, where is Asuka?"

_Author's Note: If you found my description of the Dæmon to be lacking (which I did), go here: . /_cb20130905122342/rosariovampire/es/images/9/98/Alucard_ to find its image. And yes, I did take it directly from _Rosario + Vampire_._


	5. Chapter 4: The Aftermath

**Dateline: 1145 hours, 20.12.2017**

**Location: Central Dogma, NERV HQ, GeoFront**

I remember when I first stood before the Pillars, back before Yui…died… Before the Katsuragi expedition, even. It was a singularly terrifying experience, as I recall, but for Yui I mustered my courage and just barely remained stone-faced before the twelve most wealthy and powerful men in the world…the men who _ruled _the world. But Ryū… Ryū seemed to be actually slightly _irritated _that he had to stand before the remaining members of SEELE, which, for all my bluster and bravado, was a point that I had never managed to reach. He simply stood there in my office, dressed in a fine black suit with his long black coat and leather gloves, glasses upon his face, a cigarette in his hand as he smoked it casually. In his other hand, he grasped the silver, ruby-eyed dragon's-head pommel of an ebony gentleman's cane, the point of it held over his shoulder like a musket, and he reached up with his hand to brush a few messy locks behind his ear.

"How can you just stand there?" I asked, trying hard–and, in all probability, failing–to mask the anger and disgust in my tone.

"Simple, Gendo-kun," he responded immediately. "SEELE is a panel of old men whose day is done, and now they're glorified arms merchants. Neither you, nor I, nor Shinji, have anything to fear from them anymore. What is more important is selling the proposal to the United Nations this afternoon…"

"…meaning tying their hands and essentially forcing them to accept the charter."

"Precisely." He chuckled quietly. "You learn quickly."

"You know as well as I do that that wasn't what I meant!" I hissed. "You made him _forget everything_, damn you! Now, I'd be the first to admit that the way I've dealt with my son was _beyond _atrocious, but _you_ took away his memories! His reason for living!"

"Listen to me," he interjected, an undercurrent of menace pervading his voice, "and listen well. Everything I have done has been for the sake of Shinji–has been to keep him alive and help him to survive the ordeals ahead. Right now, yes, I have taken from him his memories; but think on it! He has exactly that right now…_zero! _Not because of me, but because that is how the world _works!_ If I allow him to have his memories of the Second Child, I must also allow him to have his memories of _everything else!_ And we _both _know that your son would only metabolize the _bad_ memories, don't we? I never _did _tell you in what state I found him, did I?"

"No, you didn't," I replied, successfully hiding the desperate curiosity and tentative outreach of paternal concern that I felt from my tone.

"Apparently, it will have to wait. We shall speak more on this later, but for now…right now, I have to walk into that room and tell eleven walking corpses to go fuck themselves," he dismissed casually. "But I am certain that once I relay to you the former state of your son, you shall see that mine was the best way to work towards his benefit." With that, he twirled his cane through the air swiftly and landed it upon the ground with a sharp _crack_, stepping forth to the door to the holo-chamber, stopping and taking his cigarette out of his mouth to exhale a large quantity of white smoke just as the paper-wrapped cylinder ran down to the filter; regarding this, he flicked it to the ground and stomped upon it, twisting his heel before letting himself in through the mechanized door and into the dark room beyond, stepping forth to the direct center, the _exact _center of where the spotlight would hit. Following him in, I stayed just outside of where the light would be, closing my eyes as the metallic _thunk _of the switch being flipped resounded throughout the large room. One by one, the monoliths lining the room lit up in sequenced pairs down the length of the hall, each a different color, until finally the procession hit the head, the Chairman's perch…and nothing happened.

"So, _you _are the trespasser…Ryū, isn't it?" SEELE 12 sneered, his nasal voice slicing through my momentary perplexion. "Well, well, well. _Another _fool tampering with our designs…as if the Third Child wasn't enough…"

With a gall I could have never summoned–and I felt no shame in admitting that, for no one with any shred of self-preservation left in them, for whatever reason, could have done so either–he held up his gloved right hand, his cane still grasped by his left in between the positions of his legs. "Shinji is not, nor was he ever a fool, and neither am I: to tell you the truth, _old man_, it is SEELE who is an organization of idiots and nincompoops, doddering old men with more dysentery than functioning brain cells." He paused to remove his cigarette pack from his coat pocket, sticking it in his mouth before bringing up his lighter and setting it aflame; as the sepulchral silence in the room remained unbroken, he chuckled in amazed amusement with a wicked, slightly _insulted_ smirk, removing the object from his mouth to exhale before speaking anew. "What, you thought to cow me? To strike me dumb in awe at a bunch of decomposing corpses who _just won't die_, let alone shut up? Did you honestly think me such a novice that I would engage you _without _knowing the enemy…mainly, _you?_" He shook his head in disbelief, taking another draw on his cigarette. "Nay; it is _you _foul, lily-livered, amber-eyed, demented infants who do battle and do not know your enemy!"

"_Learn your place!_" roared SEELE 02, voice distorted with rage.

He pivoted on his heel, holding his cigarette languidly in his hand, irritation twitching within his golden eyes. "Oh, but I have, _Number Two_; I daresay I have learned it better far better than _you_," he said, indicating the monolith in question with his cigarette. "Let me be perfectly clear: you…are…_powerless_."

"A lunatic, then, is what you bring to protect you, Ikari?" SEELE 05 scoffed. "Truly, Instrumentality has made you weaker than your son, even; had I not just seen it proven, I never would have thought it possible!"

Ryū stiffened, turning his head slowly towards the fifth pillar, his whole countenance _morphing_; suddenly, in place of the sixteen-year-old bearing a gaze demonstrating age beyond what his years seemed to be, there stood a marble-skinned _creature_, age unable to guess, with streaks of grey in his hair and the slight wrinkles that suddenly I understood to seem like the markers of one in his middle-years; but most important were the eyes…the eyes…they were pinpoints of scarlet fire, predatory and feral, with vertical pupils of serpentine construction, not reflecting the images around him, nor bearing any shadow to fall upon it, nor bear to be affected by the touch of the spotlight, but rather brilliant with its own bio-luminescent glow. Indicating 05 with his cane, something _moved_ in the shadows and the darkness beyond the spotlight, and what came next from the monolith were screams of incredible horror and indescribable, inarticulate agony, together with the ripping of flesh and the rupturing of organs.

"Let this be a lesson to you, _Spartan dogs!_" he hissed. "I am not to be trifled with, and any who bring such dishonor onto that boy will beg for 05's end by time I am done with him! SEELE's day is _done! _Your funds are _gone!_ NERV is soon to be no more! I only meet with you now to ascertain whether or not to place the event of your imminent annihilation upon this month's agenda! But since you so _obviously_ learned _nothing _from Third Impact, I shall make this abundantly clear to you: SEELE is _finished_."

With that, he violently and dramatically jerked his arm out wide, as if backhanding a phantom, and the monoliths shut off in unison, the spotlight switching off and overhead lights in the room coming on, and just as abruptly as the change had come over him, it reverted, and once again it was the same sixteen-year-old boy, eyes wide and trembling in fury, face pinched and paler than normal, beads of perspiration running down his face.

"Are you…well?" I asked, reaching out.

"_DON'T TOUCH ME!_" he snapped, swiftly taking a hostile stance. Then, as suddenly as he lashed out, his posture relaxed from its ramrod stiffness, and as he took a shuddering breath whilst running his trembling hand through his hair, I noted that he just looked…tired. Like an old man who had seen too much in his life to handle right then.

_Like an old man…_

**Dateline: 1330 hours, 20.12.2017**

**Location: United Nations Consulate, Tokyo-3**

As the UN ambassadors filed in, I shook my head, trying to dislodge the sense that something, something very important, had been but recently taken from me. Right there, on the floor, stood Ryū, my father in the slightly shadowed section of the floor behind him, but something about my guardian was…I don't know…_off_; as if something had happened to endanger his health. Nevertheless, as the ambassadors in their black suits and multicolored ties sat down in their appointed seats, their faces shadowed by the lack of light in the room, all of it focused upon the floor as if it were some modern colosseum, he looked unmoved by it all as he usually was, so naturally nothing _too_ bad could have happened to him, right?

"Now that we're all here, let us call this convention of the United Nations into order," he said without preamble, his voice carrying to everyone in the room. "I'm sure you all would love to get to the complaining as soon as possible."

Silence prevailed for a short time, before the American representative stood. "Mister… Ryū, is it? On the sixteenth of December, at forty-five minutes after midnight, according to the MAGI report, you launched Evangelion Test Type 01…"

"…01-_A_," Ryū corrected.

"…01-A, without authorization, to combat an unknown being, Codename: Belphegor. The fight carried on for approximately four minutes and fifteen seconds, at the end of which Codename: Belphegor was registered terminated," the representative continued. "Now, I think I speak for everyone when…"

"But _of course _you think that; you _are _American, after all," Ryū interjected mockingly.

"…when I say that we would like an explanation," finished the man, barely able to hide his irritation any further.

"Well, it's quite simple, actually," he replied. "I was able to recover EVA-01 and remove its Super Solenoid Organ, and further to get it to generate a new specially-designed body, thus armoring it in plating made of a custom-synthesized alloy, and retrieved the pilot. Then, over the course of two months, I trained the Third Child, Shinji Ikari, in the skills that he would need. Following his first synch test with the prototype second-generation Evangelion, however, the Eighteenth Dæmon, Codename: Belphegor, attacked Tokyo-3 at 0045 hours. Thus, I made the decision to launch EVA-01-A to engage in the first active combat situation for the Evangelion Advanced series, the data for which is to be found in the MAGI's report. Clear enough, or need I repeat it more slowly?"

"I take offense to your lack of respect for this council, son!" the American spat at last.

"Oh, did I just awaken the Eagle That Raped A Thousand Cultures? I am so terrifically sorry for that," Ryū fawned mockingly. "As you might understand, I have bigger worries than appeasing the massive ego of a country formed by doddering old men half-mad with syphilis and dementia, and the other half from dysentery. Believe it or not, we are here to speak of authorization: specifically, in the form of a charter."

"A _charter?_" the American exclaimed incredulously.

"Now, now, Mister Johnson, don't you know it's bad manners to cut off your peers? No wonder you don't play well with other children," he remarked scathingly. "Yes, a charter."

"What do you propose?" asked the representative of Great Britain.

"Ah, a sensible one at last," Ryū noted with a wry smirk. "What I propose is the re-organization of NERV to combat this new threat we face…reorganization under me."

"Why not the current commander of NERV?" the French representative asked himself.

"Commander Gendo Ikari, while capable, has demonstrated himself to be…lacking in certain crucial areas. Areas in which, if we are found lacking, may be coded our destruction. I, however, have no such inadequacies. That which I fail in are tasks more suited to one in the post of Vice-Commander than Commander, and so I shall retain the current Commander Ikari as my Vice-Commander for the duration of this crisis."

"Now wait a minute, wait a minute," the American interjected. "What of VORMUND? Surely it's a more stable option at present, having us deal with known entities instead of potential loose cannons."

"_Mister Johnson,_" Ryū hissed. "Are you an _imbecile _or a _traitor? _You know as well as I that VORMUND would be a subsidiary of SEELE, the very organization that was responsible Third Impact! What makes you think they wouldn't try for a Fourth? And besides, without Keel Lorenz to hold their leashes, SEELE will assuredly target the Third Child, the only one capable of producing the results in the report!"

"Still," said the American, smug satisfaction upon his face. "The devil you know…"

_BANG!_

The American's eyes went wide, astonished, before he tumbled over the railing of his row and down to the floor.

"A most disgusting weapon," muttered Ryū, eyeing the smoking pistol with endless disdain, holding it with only two fingers before dropping it to the ground and stomping upon it. "As for the rest of you, be warned also that SEELE no longer has the resources necessary to support such a ludicrous project as VORMUND. I, however, am in the optimum position to fund VOVIN out of my own pocket, much as SEELE did with NERV. And besides, what _choice _do you have? I possess the only combat-ready unit capable of taking down a Dæmon, so essentially, your choices are to approve the charter, or condemn yourselves to obliteration.

"So, what will it be?"

**Dateline: 1745 hours, 20.12.2017**

**Location: Central Dogma, VOVIN HQ, GeoFront**

"Well, I'd say that went well!" exclaimed Ryū, resting his heels upon the new ebony desk he had had placed in the office I had hated so much…an office which, thankfully, was no longer mine, a mantle that was no longer mine to bear. And yet…

"Indeed it did," I answered. "You said you would regale me with the details of my son's previous whereabouts."

Ryū was silent for a long time, the satisfied, amused smirk gone from his face as if it had never been there in the first place. Then, with a long sigh, he spoke: "I did, didn't I? I was beginning to hope you'd forgotten. Still, I suppose it's a sign of progress that you've remembered to ask a question expressing your honest concern for your son's welfare, isn't it?" He shook his head ruefully, taking his boots off of the desk one after the other, and opened one of the file-drawers built into the structure of the fine table. From that drawer, he grabbed something and placed the object on the surface before the both of us, baring it to my scrutiny for the first time. I recognized it.

"Is that…"

"Correct," he responded. "A syringe of morphine, 6 grams. Empty."

"…does that mean…" I hesitated, licking my lips.

"Yes, Gendo," said he. "I found your son in a tenement in New Kyoto, laid out on a sofa, with double the maximum nonlethal dose of morphine running through his veins. He was…I was _just _able to save him from that fate. His…memories… Those are what drove him to it. And so, after striking a deal with him to bring him back to Tokyo-3 _willingly_, I regularly drugged him with an amnesiac, trying to suppress those memories that led to his monumental course of self-deprecation which nearly resulted in his successful suicide."

"I…" I sat down in the chair before the desk, unable to stand any longer. "I…had no idea…that he was damaged that badly…"

The commander of VOVIN barked a harsh, humorless laugh. "No, of course not. _You_ were too wrapped up in trying to get your wife out of a thing that she had entered willingly, fully aware of the inherent risks, neglecting your son in the process. Ironic: everyone pitied him for his weakness, and yet your son was far stronger than _you_."

I shook my head. "As to my son being stronger than I, that is something that is a simple fact. But you misread my intent if you truly judge my motivations so." I paused to take a breath, to say something I had told no one. "I searched for Yui because I believed that without her, my presence would poison him. So I pushed him away to try to get his mother out of that…that _thing_…so that she could do what I could not: teach him not to be me."

"So in your mind, it was done for Shinji's sake?" he asked.

"Yes. And when I saw how badly it had gone wrong, that one moment when he saw her…and let out that horrible, horrible scream…I wanted nothing more than to die. I was a failure in what I tried to do… In fact, in the process of doing what I thought was necessary, I ended up doing the thing I had tried so desperately to avoid–I had hurt my son," I confessed.

Silence ensued. "Gendo," he said at last, gently. "I do not wish to keep Shinji's memories from him forever, but letting him have them back now would be tantamount to murdering him. It's a stroke of pure luck that ADAM managed to guard the majority of his post-Impact memories from being exposed to him by Belphegor's mental attack, but I do not wish to rely upon him, willing to atone though the soul of the Seed of Life may be. This way is better: I can restore his memories incrementally now, and help him heal instead of putting a band-aid onto the rend and then forgetting about it. That, however, will take time; time in which it is essential that you discover the whereabouts of the Second Child."

"Is it really necessary to bring that…that _harpy_…back into the boy's life?" I asked, doing my best to remain civil even as my query endured the rough passage of the hiss between my clenched teeth.

"Gendo, Shinji lives and breathes for her, and though she was often loathe to admit it, so too does she for him. Their bond is one of the few things that cannot be broken, and it was for her sake that he went into hiding. I saw those memories, Gendo…" he said with a shiver. "Believe me when I say that if they were to be unleashed onto Shinji as he is, he'd be right back there with that needle on the couch…or worse."

"All right, then," I relented. "Do what needs to be done."

"I will, Vice-Commander," he stated.

Satisfied, I stood, bowed my head in acknowledgement, and left, not hearing his last, muttered response.

"Believe me, I will."

_Author's Notes: This story is inspired by deathbringer374's story, "Scar Tissue", and as such, there are some events that are borrowed from his account. Trust me, though: I will use them differently. Just wanted to get that shout-out there. Thanks, shinigami._


	6. Chapter 5: School Days

_Author's Note: Fanus Obscurus, your review made me laugh. This one's for you. Also, some clues as to exactly _who _Ry__ū__ is are in this chapter… I'll enjoy reading your theories._

**Dateline: 0815 hours, 24.12.2017**

**Location: Tokyo-3 City First High School**

Oh, _why _did I have to attend school? Certainly Ryū had kept me more than up-to-date in the area of my conventional education, for besides weapon forms such as _kenj__u__tsu_, _s__ō__jutsu_, _iaijutsu_, _batt__ō__jutsu_, _naginatajutsu_ and _ky__ū__jutsu_, as well as martial arts such as _j__udo_, _karate_, _jujutsu_, _aikidō_, _kung-fu_, _taichi_ and _tae kwon do_, he filled my days with lessons on mathematics, the sciences, literature, languages and history, along with tactics, strategy and the intellectual arts of war, such that I could take (and was currently in the process of taking) privately administered equivalency tests from Oxford University in England, which was possible thanks to some strings pulled on my behalf by Ryū, in order to qualify for a master's degree in all the conventional subjects (and many of the unconventional ones) in which he instructed me, so that I might then go on to take the Ph. D. examinations and submit my dissertations…which were half-done already. So of course, it came as a dejecting surprise when Ryū had, no more than a week ago, informed me that I had been enrolled in the City First High School, the companion to the junior high school that I had attended whilst fighting the Angels two years ago, and even worse, that my attendance was mandatory.

His explanation still left an ashen taste in my mouth. 'You need to hone your ability to interact with your peers at a social level,' he had said. 'True, you may be a latent polymathic prodigy as well as a damnably great EVA pilot, but you're also a human being, and _you_ of all people should know exactly how important interpersonal interactions and connections are to human beings.' He had said that with a significant glance at me, so that I had no illusions as to what he was referring to, and that had shut me up swiftly.

At this time in the morning, usually it would be the schedule to get up, sweep the floors, clean off and polish every single weapon in Ryū's mysterious arsenal and then go through the _yoga _routine he had implemented into my regimen. Right then, I knew that I would sorely miss the time I spent sitting in the half-lotus position on the _zabuton_, writing _haiku_ upon the rice-paper page with an archaic, _Sengōku_-era brush when it came to be afternoon and then evening. But it wasn't as if I could go against what Ryū thought was best: the chance remained that the entire affair was a test of patience, or of loyalty and obedience, after all; and so I steeled myself to withstand the rush of students that came with the 8:20 bell.

Right on cue, in rushed a mob of familiar and not-so-familiar faces, people I took to be my former friends and fellow students. _This is going to be painful,_I thought to myself. _Just look: there's T__ō__ji, Kensuke, Hikari…wait, is that _Mana_?!_ My brain came to a grinding, screeching halt. _Yes, for sure! That's Mana Kirishima! I wonder what she's doing… _Immediately, a few flashes of unfamiliar images flew before my mind's eye, followed swiftly by an immense headache that seemed to promise that any further inquiry into the past would be met with swift and decisive retribution. _And…T__ō__ji's sister Mari? Wow, I _have _been gone for a long time._ Following behind that parade came Rei, and then a flush of others, some of whom being acquaintances, others entirely alien to me.

"Excuse me, but I do believe that you're sitting _at my desk_," a familiar voice spoke slowly, attempting to sound threatening. Annoyed, I looked up at him questioningly, letting my irritation manifest itself in my expression, and was admittedly surprised when the sight of me caused his eyes to go wide and for him to backpedal drastically. "Shi…"

"_Suzuhara-san!_" called a very familiar voice sharply. "If you would be so kind as to introduce your posterior to the surface of a seat?"

Guess who walked in just then?

Head held high, glasses on, in a variation upon his normal black attire, a businesslike and firm expression upon his face and a briefcase in his gloved grasp, in walked none other than Ryū, not stopping at the desk I was sitting at, but rather going all the way up to the front of the classroom, setting his briefcase down upon the teacher's desk, picking up a piece of chalk and writing 'Ryū-sensei' upon the board in kanji. "_Konichiwa. _I am to be your teacher, since Hiko-sama retired recently; you may refer to me as…" he said, indicating the kanji with the stick of chalk in his hand, "Ryū-sensei. In turn, I would like to extend my warmest greetings towards the students of Class 3-C, but also a warning: I am not like your junior high sensei, who was well-known and notorious for his long, pointless lectures on post-Second Impact history, states of events which have only occurred in the past seventeen years. Treat this class with the respect and diligence that it deserves, and you shall do well; in return for your efforts, I promise you that you all shall learn more than you have in any year previous."

The bell rang, signaling the time to be 8:30, and time for the day's lessons to commence. I sat up straighter in my seat, excited at the prospect that my day might at last be looking up.

Oh, how wrong I was.

"Class, let us begin with a subject with which most of you, I'm sure, are totally unfamiliar: pre-Second Impact history. Now, who knows what the _Bakumatsu_ was? Raise your hand to signify your knowledge of the subject's content, please."

No one raised their hand.

"_Oro,_" Ryū muttered with a sigh, burying his face in his palm.

Tentatively, I raised my hand.

"Yes, Shinji," he called out, his voice and face impassive, but a small flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

I stood up. "The _Bakumatsu _was a war waged from 1872-1883. It was a civil war which brought about the end of the Tōkugawa _bakufu_, and the beginning of the Meiji Era."

"Correct," he responded as I sat down. "The _Bakumatsu_ was what may be termed a 'conflict of interest'. Basically, after Matthew Perry and the fleet of American ironclad warships at his back blockaded and bombarded Edō Harbor, the shogun, knowing that his samurai armies could not combat the industrialized military strength of the West, signed an accord with Perry, which within a few years resulted in widespread poverty and nigh-on bankruptcy, for the Americans had written the agreement to favor them and to drain the country dry, and the enforcement of those terms nearly accomplished exactly that. The Emperor, seeing the state in which his people lived, went _over_ the head of the shogun–which, back then, simply did not happen–and ordered all the Western foreigners expelled from the land which was then known as Yamatō, without the permission of the military government of Kyoto. Tensions that behind the scenes had been building up steadily ignited into a bloody conflict between the Loyalists–most notably the force known as the Shinsegumi–and the confederation of imperialist rebels known as the Ishin Shishi. Foremost among these…" And so the lesson continued, enrapturing the classroom in a way the droning, aging sensei I remembered was incapable of accomplishing, describing in detail decisive battles, the lives of prominent commanders on both sides, and the formation of the Meiji government after such a war concluded, only just managing to finish the tale of the disappearance of the legendary Himura Kenshin, known then under the alias of Hitokiri Battōsai, before the midday bell rang, signaling the beginning of the lunch hour.

As the obnoxious ringing afforded me the opportunity I needed, but after opening the desk, I quickly wished that I had never seen it. My message box had become a veritable _war zone_, bogged down with queries so numerous and so multipurpose that it made me dizzy just to _gaze _upon the archive. I groaned inwardly; _Lunch is going to be Hell._

And you know what? I was right.

"Shinji! Where've you been the last year and a half?!" was Tōji's first question after we got let out for lunch.

"Yeah, Shinji! We've been worried…even thought you were dead!" added Kensuke.

"I've been around," I replied noncommittally.

"You haven't been living with Red, have you?" asked Mana, suspicion and jealousy easily observable to me now that Ryū taught me to pick out the signs. Even so, I couldn't stop confusion from manifesting itself in my expression, not knowing what she was talking about save for a twinge of headache-inducing half-memory. Seeing my confusion, she added: "You know, Asuk…"

"Kirishima-san," said Ryū from directly behind her. "Suzuhara-san, Aida-san, Shinji and I need to converse _in private_, if you please. And for the record, she to whom you so affectionately refer as 'Red' has long since departed for Germany, if you will recall, whilst I can testify that Shinji-kun remained in Japan."

Sufficiently chastised, her mouth snapped shut almost reflexively as she backpedaled for a bit before turning around and walking away. Nodding in approval, Ryū pulled up a chair next to me at our table and sat down, all four of us grouped together at one point.

"How do you know where he was?" Tōji asked finally.

"Ah, yes…that was one of the things I wished to speak with you of. You see, Suzuhara-san, Aida-san, if you wish to visit Shinji-kun henceforth, you will not find him at Brigadier-General Katsuragi's apartment. Due to the reorganization of NERV, I am now his guardian, so when you wish to interact with him on an extracurricular basis, you are welcome to visit this address," he said, slipping them a slip of paper with our address written upon it in his elegant hand. "Simply be sure to call before coming, so that we know to expect you, and so that I can notify you if Shinji is to be on duty at VOVIN Headquarters at that time. Is that agreeable to you two? The entire purpose of this is so that Shinji can interact with kids his own age in his off hours, and as such I will do all in my power to facilitate such interpersonal relationships."

"Uh…thanks, Ryū-sensei," replied Tōji, unease permeating his tone. "…why do you speak so strangely, though?"

Some things never change. One of them being Tōji Suzuhara's complete and total lack of a verbal filter.

"_Do _I speak strangely, Suzuhara-san?" he asked in response. "I simply say a thing as I think it. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh, I…I didn't mean…that is…"

"Peace, Suzuhara-san."

I watched the entire exchange with astonishment overtaking every other thought I might have had. Never, and I do mean _never_, had I seen Tōji at a loss for words, and now Ryū had him so flustered that it looked as if he could barely _breathe_, let alone _speak_.

Breaking me from my reverie, however, was Ryū's smartphone's ringtone going off. Suddenly, the guardedly friendly demeanor was nothing but a memory, and he was all business. "Commander Ryū speaking. What's the situation, Colonel?" A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as his expression soured, turning his neutral countenance into a small scowl. He turned to me, and before he said a single word, I knew exactly what the response was going to be. "Bad news, Shinji," he spoke. "The Seventeenth Dæmon is confirmed to be dropping, ETA three hours. We need to get going." Then he returned his attention to the phone, and into it he ordered: "Activate the new alarm system and tell the citizenry to get to their closest shelters. The pilot and I are en route presently." Shutting it, he said to me: "Looks as if your first day back is going to have to be cut short, Shinji. I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "Like you always say, it can't be helped. Let's go."

_Fifteen Minutes Later_

As Ryū's convertible ran down the roads at top speed, I could not help but compare his style of driving to Misato's, if for no other reason than to take my mind off the impending Dæmon attack: for unlike Misato, though he drove at a velocity that would most likely get a normal person killed in an accident that would mangle their corpse beyond any sort of recognition save dental, he wove through traffic effortlessly, perfectly calculating the trajectory of every turn around a corner and transforming it into the wide arc he would need to achieve in order to avoid nauseating me. The car was a shiny black custom Lamborghini, sleek and predatory, with manual transmission but a sound unlike any I had ever heard, which I attributed to the fact that, according to Ryū, the vehicle was custom-made to include a multi-stage fusion reactor in place of an ordinary combustion engine, the power output of which being controlled entirely by that "stick shift". Right now, though, I could feel some deep part of myself, far beyond the "event horizon" past which was only an incapacitating migraine, expressing gratitude for the extra speed, an edge of bloodlust entering in between the pulses of relief.

_VOVIN Headquarters, 1400 hours (EVA Cages)_

"_Flooding the Entry Plug now. Shinji, status report._"

I waited for the LCL substitute to submerge me before attempting to reply. "All systems functional," I said. "Ready to establish A-10 connections; standing by."

"_A-10 circuits connected: Synch ratio at…97%,_" came Maya's voice over the communicator. "_Pilot life signs all in normal range…all systems nominal._"

"_Good,_" replied Ryū. "_Shinji, for the fight with the Seventeenth Dæmon, Codename: Alastor, the arsenal is expanded but still limited. It's up to you to make the tactical determination as to which weapon would be suited to the task: the yari, the katana or the positron rifle. Are you prepared to go?_"

"_Hai_," I responded.

"_Very good, then. Brigadier?_"

"_EVA LAUNCH!_"

I braced myself for the g-force of the catapult, instead focusing on bringing up the synch ratio between myself and the advanced EVA. All too soon, the light of the sun hit my eyes, and the fireball–well, more of a smoke ball, by this point–of Alastor passed through the sky, slamming into the city (which, thankfully, had retracted its buildings in time) and trailing upon the ground, plowing a furrow into the streets. After not too long, its clawed hands grasped at the ground, and the invader brought its body around. It was heavily armored, with long, curved tusks as opposed to the more geometric horns of Belphegor, a long tail with a spade and not a stinger, what appeared to be goat's hooves, only with the feet themselves in the shape of a hawk's talons, and a maw of savage teeth. It was altogether more bestial than Belphegor's vaguely humanoid form, but that image was marred when it took from its back a long, brutish, wicked scimitar, its bull nostrils flaring, and roared a challenge to me. And right then, I knew.

"Deploy progressive _yari_," I ordered, stepping off of the catapult. Almost immediately, a weapons case deployed, and I ran over to it, opening it and removing the long polearm, twirling it over my head and then bringing it to bear.

The Dæmon, taking my response as an acceptance of its challenge, roared again before charging the EVA. Battle training taking over, I replied with my own _kiai_ and charged to meet it. Ducking under Alastor's sweeping sword-blow, I used the force of my momentum to plunge the _yari_ into the creature's A-T Field, the power behind the thrust causing the force-field to buckle under the strain, allowing me to score a glancing hit against its right side, taking armor and a bit of underlying flesh away with it. My opponent bellowed in rage and swung its weapon, trying to score an attack of opportunity, but thankfully I was able to pivot just in time to bring the shaft of the polearm up to block the blow. In a practiced manner, I twisted it around, trapping the scimitar's blade in its grasp and striking its exposed side with a calculated savagery.

Alastor wrenched its scimitar from my trapping grasp, letting loose with a rage-driven flurry of blows that put me firmly on the defensive, since as a consequence I was hard-pressed to fend off the reckless offensive. I kept frantically searching for an opening, but keeping myself alive was my primary concern, and it demanded the lion's share of my attention, so much so that I finally was about to leave an opening, but before it could strike, I beat my wings and gained altitude to give me a little room to maneuver. Ending up far above it, I brought the weapon down as Alastor, seeing me, took to the air as well, and in the center we crashed together, the duel becoming an intricate three-dimensional fight to the death.

It struck, I parried; I reposted, it counterattacked. We traded blows viciously, though neither of us seemed able to land a hit. That is, until it came in for an especially reckless charge attack, bringing his body fully into my zone, making sure that the clash was close enough to me to execute the next phase of the maneuver, which was to shoulder-bash me and send me flying to the ground, surprised. I smashed into the ground painfully, the _yari _spinning out of my grasp as Alastor dove, sword extended, to stab my prone form. Desperately, I threw up my A-T Field to block the strike, and managed to do it; but it kept to its task, and suddenly it was not a question of reacting quickly enough to throw up a last-ditch A-T Field, but a question of attrition: my will and ability to sustain an Absolute Terror Field of that magnitude against the force of its inertia combined with the force of its body weight. And, knowing my limits much better now than two years ago, I knew then that this war of attrition wasn't one I could win…that no matter how much I struggled to ward it off, the Dæmon would eventually be victorious; and judging by the gleeful, gloating expression that spread across its bovine face, it was just as aware of that fact as I was…that it was only a matter of time…

For some reason, rather than making me despair, that knowledge made me…_angry_.

_Really_. Angry.

I saw red; how _dare _this monstrosity beat me? How…_dare_…it?!

Ignoring the familiar whisper in the back of my head, I didn't even _try _to hold back my rage, and it built until it ignited in a conflagration worthy of an N2 mine; and suddenly, it was no longer a whisper, but a counterpoint to my own will, until finally becoming a musical harmony, the EVA's pain at the stress of maintaining the force-field serving as a bass, the symphony of fury falling into step–synchronizing–and then building up to a crescendo.

"_The pilot's synch ratio is exceeding 645%...my God… It's going Berserker again!_"

Tapping into a new wellspring of energy, and summarily gaining my second wind, it was suddenly an effortless trifle to reinforce and expand the A-T Field, blasting Alastor backwards and forcing it to stagger. Pressing the attack, fueled by nearly mindless rancor, I took to the air, leaping onto the chest of the Dæmon and pounding against it relentlessly, taking its arm when it tried to pry me off and snapping it in half; it bucked in agony, and I took the opportunity to plunge my clawed hand into the wound I had scored in the monster's hide, widening and deepening the gouge and ripping out the organs and tendons I found there, grinning unconsciously as I tore apart my foe.

{Use the Lance! Kill it!}

_I do so love it when we speak the same language._

Delivering a savage blow to induce trauma into the creature's spine, I leapt back off of the monster and walked over to the _yari_. As the Dæmon regenerated enough to get up and try for a berserk, suicidal charge against me, I picked up the polearm and, synchronizing with the weapon's internal receptors, made the _mi_ extend and spring into a pair of prongs, then hurling it like a javelin towards the charging monstrosity; it struck true, the shape and alloy shearing through the Dæmon's Absolute Terror Field and piercing Alastor's breast-plate, the Super Solenoid Organ in the center of its chest, interrupting the seal beneath it and ramming out of the creature's back. The aberration stopped in its tracks, animalistic shock and horror registering on its face as its flesh ignited, massive gouts of flame spouting from the infinitesimal seams in its charring armor as its connection to its physical form was shattered. Satisfied, I turned my back on it and walked away, heading back to the catapults, as the Dæmon exploded behind me.

_Mission objective achieved._

_1612 hours, Commander's Office, Central Dogma,_ _VOVIN HQ_

"Well," said Ryū, expressing genuine approval through his tone. "_That _went well."

"_Arigatō_, Ryū-sama," I responded. "Though it was only through anger that I prevailed…"

"Be that as it may, the end result is that you not only _survived_, but also _vanquished_ the threat," he countered. "Driven by rage and sheer emotion–which is not _always_ a failure, mind you–or not, the fact remains that there are no other pilots who could accomplish such a magnanimous feat as to stand against a higher Dæmon not only once, but _twice_, victorious on both counts, and still alive to tell the tale, not to mention well enough to undergo a debriefing with a minimum of trouble. Do not thank me for what I say, Shinji-kun; I am simply giving credit where credit is due."

I was speechless.

"Now, I wish to apologize for cutting short your first day back in the normal world, Shinji. Dæmon or no, it is important that you cultivate the sorts of pseudo-fraternal ties that exist between Suzuhara-san, Aida-san and yourself, and it was in bad form and with a heavy heart that I was forced to cut that short today," he continued, getting up, lighting a cigarette and looking out the window that made up the back wall of the Commander's Office. "I hope that you'll take the news of your exemption of all homework and most assessments as a consolation prize; in all honesty, the methods and matters in which I schooled you render most of that work irrelevant. However, given the events that transpired this day, I'm not going to be able to drive you back to the apartment. As such, I have tasked your sister, Rei, with the matter of your transportation."

"_A…Arigatō_, Ryū-sama," I managed again. "I'll be fine."

"There's a gift for you in your room when you get home. I'd like to take the opportunity to allow you to re-familiarize yourself with it, since, well…" he said, a mischievous grin implied in his tone, "…I suppose we all have our preferred forms of emotional release, don't we?" He chuckled to himself. "Now go. And be safe, Shinji."

_Penthouse 14-D, 1074 Anohana_

"Thanks for the ride, Rei-chan," I said sincerely.

"Do not mention it, Shinji-kun," she returned in her usual calm monotone. Then she stepped on the gas pedal of her silver Aston Martin (a gift from Ryū, no doubt) and drove off, leaving me to ascend to the apartment.

Walking into the lobby, I found it deserted as expected, given the very high likelihood that they were still trying to get out of the bunkers and back here as the damage was being assessed. Alone, then, I entered the elevator and rode it up to the top floor, where our…where Ryū's apartment was located, getting off at the correct stop and using my spare key to enter the penthouse. Working on autopilot as my exhaustion began to creep up on me (for after all, adrenaline only works for so long), I made my way into my bedroom, but what I saw propped up against the wall gave me my third wind of the day.

For in a black case upon that wall, I discovered when I opened it, was an obviously hand-made, no doubt obscenely expensive, excellent-quality cello and a horsehair-wooden bow of the same quality to accompany it. Taking it out gingerly with the intent to prepare it, only to find that, to my surprise, it had already been masterfully tuned, the bow adequately rosined, I sat down on the new armless chair that sat in the corner of the room, placing my fingers upon the notes, and, for the first time in a very, _very _long time, I simply _played_.

**Dateline: 1945 hours, 24.12.2017**

**Location: Near the Kirishima Residence, New Azabu, Tokyo-3**

Mana Kirishima had snuck out of her house at 1815 hours, heading for a party across the neighborhood. It was almost funny: insecure and villainous adolescents would always find a way to engage in the closest approximation of hedonistic revelry of which they could conceive. Kirishima herself had engaged in exuberant physical activity with no less than four partners this night, all of them with a surfeit of bulky, useless muscle and a marked paucity in the department of pure cognitive ability and intellectual capacity. Disgusting: I had almost felt a twinge of guilt over what I was about to do, but such evaporated the moment I witnessed the act…not as a voyeur, but with a clinical detachment and the objective professionalism as a predator stalking its next meal. I almost laughed at that; how apropos that metaphor truly was.

_There._ She had separated from the entourage that surrounded her, all girls as inebriated and pathetically petty as she was…save one. I noted Hikari's presence as something to look into at a later date, especially considering her demeanor, which radiated discomfort to an almost comical degree. Any leverage Kirishima might have had to force Hikari to join her, which was undoubtedly what had happened to bring about the current state of events as I viewed it from afar, would undoubtedly also adversely affect Shinji, knowing Kirishima's _modus operandi_, and that was a possibility that I could not allow. No matter; I'd have my information soon enough, one way or another.

300 meters isolated now. It was the perfect time to strike. Allowing the unbidden grin to come onto my face, I melted into the shadows and shifted through the darkened street to a shadow on a wall right before Kirishima. She was so close…3 meters…2…1…_now!_

Swiftly grabbing her by the throat and pinning her against the wall, I materialized from out of the shadows, and I could see recognition knifing through her alcohol- and dopamine-induced cognitive fog, confusion with a twinge of buried fear showing in her eyes. "Good evening, _Miss Kirishima_," I half-whispered maliciously. "I'm so terribly sorry about this"–lies–"but Shinji-kun is in a very…delicate stage currently, and I cannot risk you jeopardizing his tenuous mental health for the sake of your childish rivalry with Miss Langley Sōryu. So I'm afraid that I'm going to have to kill you." Terror took over entirely, and she began to tremble, otherwise petrified with horror, and I secretly relished every _scintilla_ of it. Given our…unique relationship, an attack upon Shinji was tantamount to an attack upon me, and those who attack me…usually don't live to say much on the subject. "Oh, do not despair… I can promise you that it shall be no more painful than a short pinch, and afterwards…the epitome of euphoria." With that, I lowered my head to her jugular, using my absence from her field of vision to hide my feral grin; then, when I found the juncture I was looking for, I bared my fangs swiftly before sinking them in deep, sinking my lower pair into the other side of her throat to secure my grip, and savored the splash of her _vitae_, her life-blood, upon my parched throat…

I drained her dry in approximately 5.47 seconds.

Letting her bloodless body drop to the floor with a crack, I straightened myself and wiped the excess blood from my chin, not wasting a single drop. Instantly I felt revived, buoyed up, revitalized and ready to continue. Nothing would harm Shinji, and nothing, _nothing_ would stand in the way of my ultimate goal.

_Meg, my love, it shouldn't be long now…_


	7. Chapter 6: The Chamber of 32 Doors

_Author's Note: I thought it was important that I get the truth of Ryū across in this chapter, and though I was expecting to go further with it, this is just too good of a stopping point. Please R I have so many concerns with this one. I kept asking myself, "Am I going too far down the rabbit hole?" And that other tedious question, "Am I going down it far enough," was also tossed around enough to make it a legitimate concern. So tell me how you all feel about it, and I'll get back in a flash._

**Dateline: 2330 hours, 25.12.2017**

**Location: Penthouse 14-B, 1074 Anohana, Tokyo-3**

I spiraled down an endless corridor that night as I slept, the familiar pleasure of once again laying my hands upon and playing the cello for the first time in over a year relegated to naught but a shadow of a memory. Nothing about the dream made any sort of sense… Snippets of conversations, shards of individual moments…all of these things ran together within the recesses of my mind, and sprinkled amidst the mixture were eldritch scenes I knew to be memories of what I had undergone during Instrumentality. And none of it made any…fucking…_sense!_ It became painful and frustrating, these gaps in memory, individual moments like a debris field floating aimlessly in the space of my brain, missing the single, central component that had once forced the memory-dust to compact and form a cohesive, spherical whole.

Unwittingly, I woke screaming, cold sweat running in rivulets down my face. I clutched my temples, doubling over as the pain in my head assaulted me: I felt as if there were several dozen chisels being dug into my head at once, and it was only getting progressively worse from there on in, the pain intensifying and magnifying, but always coming in pangs, like a headache… No, not a headache; a migraine. A migraine so powerful that a few seconds later, a pang came that sent me to the floor with a cry, my vision blurring, darkening and then sharpening again, always fluctuating, never stable enough to give me anything to hold onto. I was a man at sea who had lost both his tiller and his bearings in the midst of a hurricane, lost and desperate, pained and just fighting now to survive…to stay alive with _some _semblance of sanity intact.

Crawling on autopilot, before I realized it I had moved out of my room and into the salon where Ryū sat, staring out of the window, gloves, turtleneck, pants, boots and coat all on him as he smoked a cigarette and watched the city of Tokyo-3 at night. Had I been in a different position, I would have noticed his glowing scarlet eyes which seemed to be bottomless, yawning pits, his unnatural pallor which far outstripped what he usually bore in terms of skin tone, and the absolute agelessness of his face, but as it stood, I could barely think coherently enough to remember my own name, let alone notice the differences in one with whom I had lived for two, almost three months. Somehow, I knew that I just…had to…reach him…

"Shinji!" he exclaimed, rushing over to me on the ground, crouched down and swiftly peeling his gloves off to reveal white, bony hands with long, sharp nails. He placed his hands onto my temples and cradled my head back to force me to look him in his scarlet eyes with their cat-like slits for pupils. "Shinji…you're in pain…almost as if…" A look of bitter comprehension dawned on him right then, and when next he looked to me, it was almost…apologetic? "Shinji, I know the memories hurt… Hell knows I do. I am sorry; I have done you a great disservice. But for what it is worth, I will tell you what is going on: your subconscious can no longer cope with the strain of what I have enforced upon it. It is now time to correct that egregious mistake." With that, he retracted his hands from my face, took mine away from my temples, and drove the first two fingers of each of his hands onto those same spots…_hard._

I gasped reflexively; for suddenly, within the expanse of my mind, I _felt _Ryū's presence. Don't ask me how I knew it was his, because I don't know either. It just…_was_. Suddenly, the swirling images abated and resolved themselves as I was pulled back into my subconscious, and when everything else was gone, there I stood, just there, in the midst of an odd room…a circular chamber that was filled with exactly thirty-two doors. No, I didn't count them; it was just one of the things I _knew_, akin to the knowledge one has in the midst of a dream. It felt…empty, somehow; as if it was usually accustomed to hosting hundreds of occupants in its area. I looked about, resolving to try and find the way to progress, to learn what was in this strange little wonderland, this little trip down the rabbit-whole.

"Don't bother," came a voice from all around which made my semi-coherent thoughts freeze in place. "Out of all of these doors, there is only one that leads out; all the rest lead to…different avenues; madness, the Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging, the Cage…the chamber of the Supernatural Anesthetist (which, believe me, is _not_ a place you want to be headed)…the list goes on." The voice localized, now coming from directly behind me. "The only way I've ever found to get out of here is to ask help from Lilith."

"L…Lilith?" I asked, confused.

"Yes…Lilith. _Lilywhite _Lilith. A blind woman who knows a great deal about what lies beyond the Chamber. What pitfalls, what dangers…what wonders. Though I doubt that your sister has the ability to guide us now that she is out of the LCL Sea, and thus not part of the collective unconscious that allows her to access this world." I turned around, and lo and behold, there stood Ryū, cigarette held languidly in his hand as it always was, but behind him his shadow wriggled and writhed, always shifting upon the red carpet that covered the floor.

"Where am I?" I muttered. "Rather, where are _we?_"

"'Where are we?' An excellent question," he said. "Currently, we are in a place known only as the Chamber of 32 Doors, beyond which lies the Waiting Room and the Pool of the Lamia, and then onto the Colony of Slipper-men. But right now, Shinji, I'm not here to take you on a tour of the Underworld. I'm here to take you on a tour of memories, to help you cope with things that you never quite learned to deal with."

"Why?"

"Because of who you are, Shinji," he replied. "And because of who I am. Come; we have much to see." With that, he turned and walked up to a single door, throwing it open and beckoning me through. Nodding my acquiescence, I followed his instructions, and taking a deep breath, I took the plunge with him into the Abyss that lied beyond. And suddenly we were both falling; falling down an endless chasm. Ryū's arms wrapped around my waist, and as I looked up, I glimpsed scarlet wings of energy that seemed to emulate the skeletal structures of bat-wings, and our descent slowed to a stop, landing us upon a circular platform in the midst of the darkness, the platform edged by the image of a winged red dragon devouring its own tail. "The Ouroboros of the Dragon, the sigil of Clan Dracula," he muttered. "Interesting. We're getting close. It isn't far now."

"Wait, close to what? What isn't far?" I demanded, getting impatient. "I want answers."

"And so you shall have them, Shinji-kun," he replied, turning to me with a wry smile. "All in good time. As to where we're going, well…we're running for the border." Seeing my confused expression, he explained: "The border between you and me; a very tenuous and tenebrous line indeed. You'll see why in only a little while. Regardless, we should be moving… They're already waiting for our arrival."

I tried to hold in my questions about who was waiting, I really did, but I simply couldn't accept "you'll see" as an answer on this one. Too many questions had gone unanswered; questions that, if the feeling (of indeterminate origin) of indignation at being kept in the dark was any metric, needed to be answered. "Who is going to be waiting for us?" I asked, a measure of danger entering my tone that surprised even me–_especially _me, for some reason.

Ryū looked back at me, a bemused smirk upon his face, but the set of his eyes expressing approval. "Why, my dear Shinji-kun, haven't you guessed? We're going to meet the other versions of myself…" He trailed off and turned to face me, projecting the full force of his gaze at my mental representation of myself significantly. And then I was filled with a sort of existential trepidation at the anticipation of what his answer would be, meaning that there was little more that I dreaded more than him replying to my question. Finally, after a short but dramatic pause, he finished: "…And ADAM."

ADAM.

Why did that name sound so terrifyingly familiar?

Ryū snapped his fingers, and in the distance a pinprick of light resolved itself. Then it grew brighter. Then larger. Then both. I stifled the urge to gasp as I realized what was happening: _it _was moving towards _us_. _Of course it's moving towards you, idiot, _I thought. _It's _your_ head, after all!_

"That it is," chuckled Ryū. "That it is."

I paled, then introduced my palm to my face as the answer came to me. We were inside my head; therefore, it should have been obvious that actively thinking anything would be as private as yelling it out loud at the top of my lungs…_in public_. "Right… Inside my head…"

"Mental exploration takes a while for _anyone _to get used to, Shinji," assured Ryū. "In fact, I have to admit that I'm rather impressed that you've done as well as you have so far. So do not berate yourself so; we travel into uncharted territory, you for your first time. How is it then unnatural or a failing of capacity to then become lost now and again?"

"I suppose you're right," I sighed.

He regarded me with an understanding, friendly smile. "Wipe the storm-cloud from your brow, Shinji. What we will have to do together… I shall not lie to you; it _will _be painful. But in the end, it shall be worth it: for this shall break your chains, and you shall thus be free."

I nodded mutely; I still had no idea of what he was talking about, but on some level, this resonated with a very basic, very hidden part of myself; thus satisfied that I wasn't walking into the rabbit-hole blind, I simply stood and waited for the opening at the end of the tunnel to reach us, and through the portal we passed, into a strange, unfamiliar room, with walls and floors of what looked like black granite, huge arched windows, an arched and arcaded ceiling high above, and at the back of the room was a large stone carving of a Western dragon, fearsome, realistic and beautiful; but upon more focused scrutiny, I saw that throughout it ran a system of shining silvery pipes, centered about the keyboard of a great, elegant pipe organ, nestled within the dragon's wide-open mouth, curving staircases on either side of the dragon and going up.

"It's…spectacular," I muttered, transfixed and dazed by the grandeur I saw all about me.

"I'm glad you like it," Ryū replied in a mocking tone, but with an underlying message of sincerity that told him that it was truly an act, and not even one he wished to conceal. "This is Ravenswood Manor…the boundary between me and you. They are here already; that is good. Shinji," he said. "In order for this to work, I need you to trust me. And to truly trust me, you must _know_ me for what I am. In turn, I will do what I can to heal your wounds, for they run deep and savage, some festering, others with so much corrupted tissue about them that maggots travel from far and wide to partake of their bounty."

"Wha…what do you mean?" I asked, confused.

{He means that he is not what he appears to be}

I whipped my head about, searching…I _knew _that voice!

{Yep. Been a bit since we could talk like this, Shinji}

From the shadows of the room, the body I knew somehow to be the source of the voice emerged, and I gasped at its appearance. Walking up to stand before me was a mirror image of myself at fourteen, save for the inky-black hair atop his head…and the scarlet eyes with diamond-shaped pupils that were set into an all-too-familiar head. He was pale, thin, and looked a little sickly, but it was most undoubtedly based upon a representation of me.

{So good that we can finally meet face-to-face, Shinji-kun}

He extended a hand in greetings, a wide smile upon his face (though how I knew that it was a face far more accustomed to expressions of rage or feral grins was beyond my knowledge). Nervously, I took his hand in my own and shook it as firmly as I could manage. Then, he turned his gaze to Ryū, and his eyes narrowed.

{You bastard. You sealed me up in there…}

"It was for your own good as well as Shinji's wellbeing," Ryū deflected, seemingly casual save for a dark edge of murder upon his tone. "You nearly drove him to…well…let's just say that six grams of morphine is the antimatter to whatever leverage you might have had upon which to stand in judgement of me or my actions. So I would suggest, _ADAM_, that you should keep your complaints to yourself when it comes to precautions that must be taken to protect him from _you_."

The nigh-on clone of me…ADAM…reeled as if struck, shadows of crushing guilt entering into his eyes and making themselves visible to all who looked closely, as I did. Though, confusion reigned as a memory returned, like the word that had been on the tip of your tongue all day that you only just now remembered. "Wait, you…you can't be _the_ ADAM! Kaworu was the host of the soul of ADAM, not _me!_" The end bit just slipped out, but as soon as I had realized my slip-up, some part of myself had accepted and verified the truth of it.

The Seed of Life snorted derisively. {They tried to leash my soul into the body of Kaworu Nagisa, saw that he had developed a Super Solenoid Organ, and thus summarily declared a success. Old fools, the lot of them. _You _have been my host since before you were _born_, Shinji; a product of the Contact Experiment your mother initiated to get my original body to revert to larval form. Imagine it: a body that was once a giant of light, relegated to a soulless husk. _She _didn't realize it until you were a toddler, Shinji–though how that woman got the thought in her head that she could come into physical contact with _me_, even through the intermediary of the Lance, and come out of the experience unchanged, is beyond me. When she realized that…well…that was when she climbed into the Test Type EVA and subsumed herself into the Unit, hoping that her husband would help manage my influence while she was gone; the influence her presence only helped intensify}

"Wait…so…" I interjected, trying to make sense of it all. "You're telling me that I've had the soul of the First Angel inside of me since _before I was born?_"

{Correct}

"Why do you think Ayanami handed control of Third Impact to _you_, Shinji?" Ryū interjected. "For the commencement of Third Impact, both Seeds of Life are needed, but ADAM more so; for in his original body, once awakened he could effect an Impact on his own. But with his soul inside you, he needed the body of Rei Ayanami to control the catastrophe, and thus it was necessary for her to act as a catalyst, seeing as ADAM had little to no agency whilst trapped within the body of a human. It is also why you were only handed control once you were inside your EVA, the only of the Evangelions that was synthesized from the genome of Lilith and not ADAM himself, as Unit-00 and Unit-02 were."

"Well then, what…what _was_ Kaworu?"

{SEELE succeeded in synthesizing a body for my son, the Angel Tabris, from my genetic code. But that negated their already nonexistent ability to insert my soul into him; no two Angelic souls may occupy the same body at the same time. Even the Seventh Angel, Israfel, was only capable of an exceptional level of multitasking, splitting his partitioned consciousness into the governing will of two bodies}

"Your father knew of the part that ADAM would have to play, as told to him by your mother before her…self-sacrifice. It was knowledge that not even SEELE had, and instead of connecting the dots, your father, distraught with grief, thought to combine ADAM's biology with his own so that, using Ayanami, he could control Third Impact and direct it to bring Yui Ikari out of Unit-01," Ryū added, lighting up as he did so. He took a draw from the spectral cigarette, exhaled slowly, and then continued. "Of course, he had to give some measure of this knowledge up to SEELE, so as to legitimize the securing of the regressed larval-stage ADAM, and somehow their understanding was more warped and divergent from the truth than his own. Thus, they somehow got the idea in their heads that they could extract a soul from a soulless husk via the husk's biology and create a second Ayanami, regardless of the fact that Lilith and ADAM are as yin and yang: what works for one will necessarily not work for the other."

Before stammering out another question, I stopped, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and asked: "So why are you telling me this here and now?"

"Because it is important for a few gaps to be filled before the floodgates are open. And besides, ADAM knows what's going to result from this, so in a penultimate act of apology, he elected to help guide us and to explain some things to you…some things that, in his estimation, deserved to be said," he responded, nonchalant. "And personally, I agree; far too many things about the events leading up to Third Impact are a mystery even to _you_, and, well…the status quo is about to change quite drastically, so it is a good idea to say whatever should have been said before one no longer has the chance. To tie up loose ends, as it were."

{And now, with that said and out of the way…time to proceed with the task at hand}

"Of course," responded Ryū, his tone unchanged save for the undercurrent of awareness that replaced his previous laconic affectation. "Shinji, if you're ready…" He lifted up his arm, pulling down his sleeve, and then lowering it to show me the scarlet dragon ouroboros that curled up, rested, on the flesh on the inside of his wrist. Then, he brought it up to his mouth and, peeling back his lips to reveal a set of sharp, interlocking teeth, spaced apart by a pair of long, narrow, razor-keen fangs and a corresponding set of shorter, wider, but no less deadly ones, and bit into the wrist, breaking the skin and exposing–with a pinched grimace of distaste–the wounded artery to my vision. Urged silently by an insistent prodding that I knew to be _his_ doing, I obligingly lowered my head and secured my lips around the incision that yielded up blood swiftly, and drank it, stifling the urge to gag as the almost overpoweringly sour taste made its way down my throat, though unable to shake the disconcerting familiarity of its texture and flavor. Somewhere, far off, I felt a short stab of pain as his upper fangs slid needle-like into my jugular, whilst his lower fangs secured his jaw's awkward position somewhere in the neighborhood of my carotid. And it suddenly hit me, where I had tasted this before…

_Night had fallen, and upon the surface of the table I had built–it was only fair after all, that a monster such as I should only possess a table crafted by a monster's hands, so as not to interfere with the lives of anyone else, and in so doing, poison them–rested the syringe. The syringe filled with six grams of morphine, twice the amount it would take to kill the most dependent morphine addict; yes, I had researched this in depth, and I knew that not even my troublesome aversion to dying would be defeated by _this_ much of the painkiller. It was simply more than the human body was capable of surviving, no matter _what _the circumstances. I sat there, staring at it, my hands propped up on the table just as I had seen the Bastard's, so many times before the end._

_It would be almost too easy; I had done what I could to minimize the negative impact my continued existence would have had upon the people I cared for–Misato, T__ō__ji, Kensuke, Hikari, Rei, everyone at NERV, Asuka…_

…_Asuka…_

_No. No, it wouldn't be too easy. It couldn't _possibly_ be; she _deserved_ to have her happy ending, and the cosmos was eager to see that she get it, _especially_ if that meant sending me down into the nadir of the lowest pit of Hell that was reserved just for me. _

_I had to do this; I knew I did. No more running away. I had already made 99% sure that she might never stumble across me again, that I would never again have the opportunity to ruin her life that I knew I would always take… After all, I was a monster; isn't that what monsters _do_? Ruin the lives of everyone around them? Not this time; this time, I had one final duty to carry out: remove the 1% chance. Remove myself from the world, so that I might never interfere with her finding her happiness in this world ever again, might never interfere with her dream job, her friendships, her family life, her eventual husband…_

…_Husband…_

_For some reason, that hurt most of all, was the most potent reason I wanted to shove my hand down my throat and rip my own heart from my chest, only to pound it into a liquefied pulp so that it would just stop hurting… She deserved to find her other half, her soul mate, the one who could take away her pain and give her no more, give her the happiness she deserved…the family…the children…_

_Yes; I was more certain than ever that I had to do this, that it had to be done. Resolute, I picked up the syringe, unsheathed the needle, and placed it against the outstanding blue artery in my forearm, ready to plunge it into the blood vessel and do at least one good thing for the world…for my friends…for _her_…_

"_I'm sorry, Asuka," were my last words, and then I exerted that tiny little bit of pressure on the syringe to force the point of the needle into my flesh, ejecting the compound that would stop my heartbeat, and with it, the venomous effect my presence had upon those who deserved to hurt the least…like her. Darkness engulfed my mind, and I knew it was all over…_

_Shaking. Shouting. I felt this in the cold embrace, masculine and insistent. "Shinji! Fuck!" A crunch, a sound like a nail being driven through flesh and bone. "Dammit Shinji, don't you die on me!" How keenly those words reminded me of Misato. And my ungrateful ass couldn't even _protect_ her from her death, just plunge her headfirst into this hellhole I'd created. The sour taste, burning my parched throat, knifed through my mind, and suddenly, as it cascaded throughout my stilled body, I felt my heart sputter into a single, painful, _violent _beat…_

[No, Shinji! It's too soon for you to be going there!]

[Ryū?!]

[Were you expecting someone else?]

[Wha…I'm so lost! So confused! This…this isn't…I don't remember this!]

[Patience, Shinji. Memory lane is a two-way street, and we can't go into this headfirst. Follow me, and I'll show you what you need to see]

[What I need to see?]

[Tell me, Shinji; what was _that_?]

[…]

[(waiting)]

[…Asuka. I loved her too much to get in the way of her happiness…but…who _is _Asuka?]

[*sigh* _Clearly_, there is much more that you need to see before I give you the key to Pandora's Box. Come with me, Shinji: those wings on your back are just _waiting_ to guide you; the future will soon set you free]

Faintly, I followed Ryū through a nebula of swirling, indescribable colors and shards of thoughts and dreams, trusting that though I had no idea where we were, he knew _precisely_ where we were headed. Strangest of all, though, was that I did not feel as if I was being dragged, but actually _following _him of my own accord, and as I dimly perceived his dream-self floating through the delirium on those same red energy-wings, I felt phantom extensions upon my own back, like those I had seen that belonged to the Giant of Light in photos from the Katsuragi Expedition after going to…wait, _when_ had I seen…

And suddenly, we were in a memory that didn't even _faintly _ring as one that could possibly be my own, and nor did the headache resurface. The dreamscape was an unfamiliar location, the leaves of the trees browning, the air carrying a sharp chill that told me it was autumn, making this memory either from before Second Impact or after Third, and somehow I got the unshakable impression that, despite the seeming impossibility of it (for in fact, I had never really been blind to the fact that Ryū was at most sixteen), the former was the correct answer. I remained silent, though, as I felt him walk up beside me, just as we watched a somewhat familiar sleek black sportscar slide sinuously into a parking spot, its driver-side wing door opening to reveal the golden-eyed version of Ryū that I was used to. The apparition stepped out of the cockpit and entered a sprawling concrete structure that looked like a school. Time sped up, and next to the black car, a yellow one parked, and out stepped a woman. True, I knew somewhere in the back of my head that she was only seventeen, but if you had seen her, you'd understand: she wasn't a _girl_; she was a _woman_.

Tall, with a method of movement that was unconsciously sensual and seductive, she was nevertheless regal in her bearing, pulling off the former perfectly and not falling into the sexual, as was all too often what happened to others who attempted the same. Her brown hair was long and luxurious, straight with slight curling, but undeniably voluminous and silky, her pale figure hourglass-shaped and generously endowed, her legs long but toned with lean muscle…but the eyes…her eyes were a pair of glacial shards of ice set into her beautiful but austere face, and those eyes looked so lonely and…sad…

When she entered the building, me being dragged along, unable to resist the path of memory, and saw _him_ across the hall, time stood still, and silence so thick you could hear a pin drop descended upon the busy high-school hallway, his eyes meeting hers and both of them lost in a torrent of emotions and, unbeknownst to her, memories.

[Who is she?]

[Her name is Meg]

[(mentally frowns in confusion at tone)…is she…_special_ to you?]

[The only woman I ever loved…the one who saved me from myself]

Then, caught in a swirling maelstrom, I spiraled with him down further into these memories of his, and suddenly we found ourselves in the familiar-but-different ballroom of Ravenswood Manor as a dreamlike version of Ryū walked into the room, paused, stricken in horror, at the threshold, and bolted towards a long, elegant, finely-dressed, broken form upon the stone floor, lying at a mess of unnatural angles amidst a pool of her own blood.

_ELANTRIS! Elantris, speak to me! What happened?!_

…_Olliver, my darling…_ Her voice sounded relieved…euphoric, even, that he was there, her weak hand reaching up to stroke his face. _…I will always…love…you…_

Silence.

Ryū's form, strangely clad in Western finery that looked like it belonged in a period film, collapsed upon hers, her body obviously now dead.

Then, his head rolled up, and he _screamed_.

It was familiar, that scream, almost unbearably so, and yet, I still couldn't place it…

His mouth opened wider, baring the strange, predatory fangs and sharp teeth to the gum before bolting down purposefully and sinking into her jugular, and drinking swiftly all of the blood left in her body, the blood on the ground somehow lifting _up_ and spiraling into him to be absorbed into his form. When it and she were drained dry, he broke, his shoulders heaving with sobs of anguish so violent that it once again struck an undefinable cord of recollection within me. After what I knew was an hour of weeping, he stood, limp, whispering to himself over and over and over again: _Mordred…Mordred…Mordred…Mordred…Mordred…Mordred…Mordred…_ His head rolled back like a ragdoll, his eyes ablaze with rage and emptiness, and he cried out to the heavens: "MORDRED!"

"…please let that be it…"

"Hmm?" asked the real Ryū.

"…can we see something else? Please?" I pleaded.

"What's wrong? Something bothering you?" he asked.

I nodded mutely.

"Well then, out with it!" he prodded. "What's bothering you?"

"I…I don't know. It just…" I rubbed my arms, trying to clear them of goose-bumps, and thus becoming aware of the fact that even though our dream-selves were separated, I still had the physical sensation of Ryū's strange fangs in my throat, his unbearably sour blood cascading down my throat. "It feels as though someone's stepping on my grave, alright?! As if…as if…"

"…As if someone took from you your reason for living," he supplied. "As if the only reason you could stand to see yourself in the mirror every morning, your other half, the only anchor you have to your sanity, to reality, was violated and then demolished?"

"Y…Yes," I replied, surprised. "How…how did you…"

"I know the feeling," he said elusively. "The night I lost Elantris was the night I stopped living…the last time my heart beat. All that was left was to find and destroy the one who had taken her from me, the rage, the hatred… As time went on, I became increasingly aware of a fact that I had always known: Elantris was my life, my heart, my companion. Without her, living on was a weight that even Atlas himself could not bear. All that remained was the hunt: I could die only after I had found and slaughtered her murderer…"

"Mordred…" I muttered.

"Precisely. You and I are more similar than you think, Shinji," he said enigmatically.

The scene shifted before I could ask what he meant, and suddenly we were standing in the middle of a wide, grassy field, the hills rolling with deep valleys and the sun shining high and white in the sky. Before us was a small village of thatch and stone, and the inhabitants milling about were clad in furs and skins that looked like they were from the days of prehistory.

"This is where I grew up," came the nostalgic explanation. "_When_ I grew up as well…"

"Ryū," I ventured. "In the last memory, the woman, Elantris…she called you 'Olliver'." The name sounded strange on my tongue, but somehow I managed to pronounce it correctly. "Why? Is that your real name?"

"Names are cheap, Shinji," he replied. "They allow others to define us, and if we do that, suddenly we are beholden to their foolish expectations. But no, 'Olliver' was simply another pseudonym. Here, where I was a child, I was called 'Æbel'; a cruel name, to be sure, but strangely apropos. For in my mother tongue, 'Æbel' meant 'Second Son,' or, of course, in your language…"

"Shinji," I breathed. Then, realization hit me like a monorail, and I stared at the scene of the prehistoric village, unseeing.

"Yes, Shinji; you begin to understand," he said…but not from where he was, beside me; rather, it came from behind us, and as we both turned to gaze upon the figure that crested the hill at the head of a column of battle-scarred men, my jaw gaped as I gazed upon the familiar, but at the same time almost completely unrecognizable form of Ryū–though I suppose at that point he was still called Æbel–draped in skins and furs, his pupils dilated as a normal person's within his golden eyes as opposed to their permanently contracted state that I was used to. "In a very real sense, _I am you_."

And like gears clicking shut, it all came together.

Images flashed around us, faster than I could divert my attention to regard them; memories of a neglectful father, of a betraying brother, of a deal made with an entity of light at the behest of a mother who had been there and then gone, of the pain that came with apotheosis, the rage, the thirst for blood…the first gaze given to one to whom your soul belongs, of a bond that could not be broken…of a lost beyond feeling, the hatred, the rejection of all around, the self-hatred that became so much a part of both of us that we forgot that there was anything else in us but that vitriol…and the commonality of the one person who could–and in his case, _did_–make us feel like _more_, feel _completed_, feel…_whole_.

"H…How?" I choked out, still reeling from something that I ordinarily wouldn't believe, save that I had just witnessed the proof.

"How? Don't you remember?!" he exclaimed, a sardonic smirk upon his face. "Leliel."

Yes… The red-head (who I somehow knew was Asuka) taunting me, and I fell to it, charging at the shadow of the Eleventh Angel only to be absorbed into the Dirac Sea that was its body…

"And Third Impact?"  
Opium dream…everyone searching for their personal euphoria…"

"You see, Shinji? I'm from one of _those _worlds, one of the parallels."

The flow of memories faded from my view, and we stood upon a beach, familiar for a reason that was just out of my grasp, gazing out over a red sea of the primordial soup of LCL. Upon the bank, a nude male figure was splayed, black hair long and familiar; and as the chest expanded rapidly with the flow of air, he got up on all fours and spent a few seconds hacking up the LCL and clearing his lungs, allowing himself to stand up once done and take a few tentative steps on the shore, and as he whipped his head about, I gasped in recognition: we were witnessing Ryū arising from the LCL Sea.

"In my world, to save everyone from annihilation, I assumed the power of a god in truth, sacrificing my immortality for the sake of those I loved…or so I thought. Instead, I was cast adrift on the eddies and flows of time, from timeline to timeline, until finally I landed here. So sorry about Keel Lorenz, though; I took the LCL that had once been his body to make my own, so even if he wished to come back, he can't," said Æbel in a tone that told me that he was most certainly _not_ sorry.

"This…this makes no sense…"

"No, I didn't expect you to see that it did," he replied. "It is difficult for the greatest of all art critics to make an objective judgement upon a painting that he has never truly seen. As I have said, you and I are a lot alike, Shinji, though I daresay you had it a lot harder than me." He chuckled at this.

"Yeah," I responded. "No kidding."

"Though not for the reasons you might think," he continued. "For example, I had an easier time of it than you because firstly, I had a father who hated me."

That stopped me. I couldn't even answer; the fog of confusion was coming off of that question in far too thick a consistency to allow for coherent thought.

"Having a father who hates you, Shinji, is invariably easier than having one who loves you," he mused. "My father, Aadem, despised my very existence because I more closely resembled my uncle than him, coupled with the fact that I had my mother's eyes. He always thought of me as a doubly unpleasant reminder: first, that he hadn't been enough to keep my mother with him, and second, that he always held a sneaking suspicion that I was the product of an affair she had with his brother, who was, incidentally, the man who ended up raising me. And thus came my second stroke of luck that made my adolescence less painful than yours: though the village hated me, my uncle taught me to hone my intellect, and so when the Highlanders came through, I was the architect of my clan's survival. In contrast, your father loves you; he truly loves you. And so it becomes all the more painful when he does something that destroys you inside, because you cannot really hide behind a shield of 'he hates me' and use that to deflect whatever harm that might be done away from you, as I learned to do."

"My father…"

"Of course, that's where my good fortune ended; my one sibling, my brother Cæn, didn't take my newfound status as savior of our clan very well, and so when we were about to make peace, he betrayed us, and personally drove a hammer into the small of my back, paralyzing me from the waist down." As he relayed this, I felt the phantom blow, heard the ethereal cries of surprise and death, felt his physical pain…and his overwhelming rage. "I crawled–_crawled_–towards one of our holy sites, the City of the Dead, and there I saw my mother, offering me my 'destiny' with a being in a pillar of light. We…we struck a deal: my humanity for the ability to attain my revenge. I accepted…and took into myself the alien soul of the Dragon of Saint George, becoming the first Immortal…the first vampire." I looked to him sharply at this. A vampire? "Oh, yes: a vampire. The first, the oldest…and later, I became the Vampire King, Lord of the Elder Council, the God-killer, the Adversary of Heaven…but, as is the case with you, all the praise, success and power in the world meant _nothing_ when compared to the regard of a single woman: she who was my wife; the Nubian Queen Lamia, host of the soul of Lilith. Without her, my drive for revenge would have turned to melancholy and, ultimately, to madness; but she was for so many centuries my reason for living, and when she was taken from me…" he trailed off. "…and when she was taken from me, all I wanted was to find and end her murderer so that I would not have to face the torment of an eternity alone.

"She came back to me," he added. "Reincarnated via the soul-bond we swore to each other, my own life serving as an anchor to bring her back into our world, a _dhampir_. In under six months, she once again gave me a reason to live, saved my life, regained her memories and became once again a succubus–or, alternatively, a vampiressa. And I left her to save her, to end up here, before you, Shinji Ikari, and I tell you this now that you should trust me enough to let me _help_ you. You carry a heavy burden throughout your life, never once even _suspecting_ that you are, in fact, the architect of your own prison. I wish to give you the key to the cage, and help you be with the one you love, if you will let me. Will you?"

"…yes," I decided. "Yes, I will."

A familiar smirk crept onto his features as I said that, and two words left his lips:

"Of course."


End file.
